Yesterday it occurred to me that when my mother was my age, I was eight. Let me start at the beginning here -
Have you ever had one of those conversations with yourself, in your head, where one thought leads to another somewhat related thought, and on and so on, until you land on a thought that seems profound in that moment. Yesterday morning I was thinking about karaoke, or waraoke really, a game that Jag has described wherein you put a song into the karaoke pot for a friend and challenge them to perform it. This lead me to think about music, the songs I know, how I was introduced to popular music, the songs that Jag might pick to get me with and the likelihood that I would be familiar with the song.
My mom loves music, in fact she has a huge record collection and I remember that we used to get a new record just about every month. I think she might have been in one of those club things. It was pretty exciting to open the package, not knowing what would be inside, slip the record from the sleeve for the first time, put it on the turntable in the entry, and dance. She had a real random collection too. Culture Club, Micheal Jackson, Meryl Haggard, Yes, Hank Williams, and Little River Band were all stacked up together in the entry cabinet. Our entry had a lineoleum floor that was perfect for dancing. Actually, one of the funniest parts about that point in my childhood, is that when I would sing along my mom would say 'please stop, you sound like a dying cat. You're never going to be a singer Kristin.' Boy didn't she get a shock when I hit puberty and started get solos in choir.
The fact is, my mom, the one that danced with me to 'karma chameleon' in the entry was my current age. She was raising two kids and dealing with a child of a husband, who, in less than a year would make a total cock-up of his life and leave her to raise the kids herself.
Luckily she had Santana, and George Straight, and Reba, and the BeeGees, and all of that music.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!