Back in the day, I used to cruise in my mom’s station wagon…a big old maroon Chevy Impala, vinyl seats. I could ride in a maroon car, but never red, since an unfortunate carsickness incident in a realtor’s car at the age of three. Probably more unfortunate for the realtor…that smell lingers.
Back then, a six year old could ride in the front seat, and attempt to take command of the radio’s buttons by guerrilla methods. I’d wait until my mom was distracted by some driving thing, and would lean left oh-so casually and press in the button to the far right, denoting Q-107, the rock and roll station! They would play Bruce Springsteen and Juice Newton. At that age, “Everybody’s Got a Hungry Heart” was my absolute favorite song.
I’ve always been a sing-alonger, so I would belt it out, to my mom’s great amusement. Both of my folks were in the church choir, and often broke into song for no apparent reason. I thought it was really normal for people to start singing show tunes and dancing around the kitchen. “Shall we dance, bum bum bum…” my mom sang, as my dad whirled her around.
I think my parents helped shape my musical tastes by the sheer eclectic-ess of their own, and by the fact that their was always music in our house. There was a piano, and my parents went to choir practice every Wednesday night and sang every Sunday. If they couldn’t get a babysitter for Wednesday nights, my brother and I would go with blankets and pillows and lie in the pews, listening to the music swelling over our heads. It sounded so different without the washed and powdered bodies of the Sunday faithful to catch to sound as it rained down. It sounded filtered, pure, just for us. Until the temperamental choir director would shout, “NO, no, no! Start over, and try to stay together!” and we’d giggle at this group of grownups being chided like naughty children.
But because we saw them make music such a high priority in their life, and how much of their social circle was shaped by music, I guess it was inevitable that it would become important to both of us as well. Although in different ways. I have a longstanding love of choral music, but tend to stay out of churches these days. But I’ve always thought of music as the most distilled version of religion, the true essence of singing god’s praises.
There are religious songs that, to this day, when I hear them, just make me cry. “On Eagle’s Wings,” “Amazing Grace”, and “The Irish Blessing” are the top three. The Irish Blessing in particular…my mom was in charge of music at my wedding, and I made her promise not to put that until the very end, so I could get back up the aisle and then cry. So what does she do? Drops it square in the middle, so I’m a puddle of tears up on the altar. HELL-O. Waterproof mascara is not THAT waterproof.
In our house, E tends to pick up on the pop side of things, and J is much more moody and emo. He loves Modest Mouse, Death Cab for Cutie, and The Flaming Lips. She loves The Fray and Sara Bareilles. And Baby W seems to be a big Public Enemy fan. I caught him bobbing his head in the rearview mirror the other day to “Don’t believe the hype”, with his best Chuck D sneer. I was proud.
So how about you? Was music a part of your life when you were growing up? How do you think your music shapes your kids?
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