I Believe in Music
When I was a little girl, our family would spend cold winter Saturday nights laying in front of the fireplace listening to music. My dad would move the couches and coffee table out of the way of the brick hearth, light a roaring fire and bring in a big bowl of popcorn. We kids would take the pillows and blankets from our beds and pile them up on the thick brown shag carpet to lie in the warmth of the fire and watch the flames dance. My mom would put on her favorite record albums. Barbra Streisand would sing us “Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered”, Andy Williams would croon “Moon River” and our lullaby would be Julie Andrews singing “My Favorite Things” from The Sound of Music.
As a teenager, I wore out needle after needle on the little red record player I had in my bedroom. I would stack as many 45’s as I could on the spindle, after snapping in each of the bright yellow disks to the center of the fat hole in the little black vinyl records. I would listen, sing and dance to each of the songs and then turn the whole stack over to hear the flip side of the records. Styx and Supertramp and David Cassidy were my companions after school. I’d put on an LP album, lie on my bed reading Tiger Beat magazine and ignore the homework sitting on my desk. I remember listening to all the songs on the album, then watching the needle roll across the black paper label and return to play the record again.
Music has been a constant pleasure in my life. I have wonderful memories of the songs of my youth, and I cannot remember a time when I wasn’t listening to some kind of music. In my 20’s I always had 8-tracks and then cassette tapes playing in my car. The song list for my wedding reception was done even before the invitations were sent out.
Now, as the mother of three teenagers, there’s a whole different kind of music in my life. Gone are the Disney soundtracks that filled my car’s speakers for years. That music has been replaced by the muffled beat from iPod headphones; the eclectic choices of my daughter and two sons.
Just as I remember music-filled Saturday evenings in front of the fire, my children have their own wonderful musical memories to hold on to. For years they heard “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star”, “The ABC Song” and Barney’s “I Love You”. They won’t forget about listening to their dad’s 80’s favorites on old cassettes during long car trips. They’ll remember me putting my own iPod on the speakers in the kitchen and playing Michael Bublé songs so we could dance around and ignore the dinner dishes. I believe that music has always touched my heart deeply because held inside the songs are a lifetime of my memories.
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