My parents tortured us when we were kids. They made us listen to their music. Loudly. Often. On turntables. They swore no good music was made after 1969. They sang it. But none of that is the worst of it. They made us listen to them share every single thing that ever happened to them while that song was on. My mother had a boyfriend for every song~one even "pantomimed" (I am not kidding. That was what she said.) I swore I would never make my kids listen to such ancient music.
OK, never say never. While driving home last night from meeting Daddy for dinner at work we heard a old Meatloaf song, the type the required windows down, radio up, and LOUD singing along. (Yes, Caroline it's all about baseball.) Not only did I make them listen to my singing, I proceeded to tell Caroline about a party on a boat with that song and how cool I was in high school. That's when the full-body shiver came on.
I grew up in the 80's and my parents grew up in the 60's and my kids are growing up in the 00's. Why does 20 years seem so long ago when you're a kid and it's just yesterday when you are a grown up? I can tell you title, artist, and year of a song within 10 notes. And I will also share any memory-good or bad-associated with that song. Music is a constant backdrop for my whole life~which is funny because I am not musically inclined at all. Nor is any of my family. It transports me. My husband will hum the theme from "Top Gun" while making dinner and it's summer of 86 again. I heard the Muzak version of "Pretty In Pink" and I am in the pool at Lance's house again. Don't even get me started on songs and boyfriends. Each guy I ever went on more than 2 dates with has at least one song and often a depressing break-up tune too!
So long live the 80's and my kids will get over it. With therapy.
Two Tomato Bruschetta
18 hours ago