Mom's Playlist

I was jogging one steamy Singapore morning listening to my playlist when a song came on that immediately reminded me of my mom.  The next 3.43 minutes were exhilarating, nostalgic, heart wrenching and beautiful. The song conjured up so many memories and emotions it was hard not to press "continuous play" and morph my playlist into entirely one song played 15 times. 

This gave me an idea.  I began to list several songs that reminded me of my mom or that I connected to my mom is some significant way.  I am not sure she would pick these songs to be on her playlist, but for me, they are songs that will be linked to her forever.  I have posted the playlist with links to audio/video clips on the left hand side of the blog post.  My hope is that readers will enjoy reading the post as much as they will enjoy listening to the recordings.  

Don't Go Breakin My Heart - Elton John and Kiki Dee (1976)

I am sitting in the back of our Chevy Tempo two-door coupe.  It’s forest green with a black vinyl roof which, according to my dad,  “was all the rage then” and it sported an overhead 6 engine. I don’t even know what this means but apparently it’s supposed to be important or impressive or perhaps both.  This was my parent’s first real car. They paid around $2,800 to drive it home. $100.00 down and $86.00 a month for 3 years.  It was ours.

Today Mom is driving while Elton John and Kiki Dee belt out their devotion to each other. Do you remember this song? I couldn't have been more than 3 or 4 but I distinctly remember my mom doing the dance-drive as she motored us through Lombard, IL. The radio was a 1970's classic with rectangular push buttons and ginormous tuning knobs. Elton calls "When I was down...." and Kiki responds "I was you clown" as mom shimmies and shakes in the driver's seat (fully belted I hope.) This song is like an injection of happy serum for me. I am immediately smiling and wanting to dance. Maybe it's duet synergy at it's best, maybe it's the snappy beat or maybe it has nothing to do with the actual song. Maybe it's the memory of being 3 years old, surrounded by love, safe, happy, free of responsibility, devoid of worry and watching my mom express a love for the moment.

God Bless the U.S.A - Lee Greenwood (1984)

My mom cried. She cried at fireworks. She cried when she heard the National Anthem no matter how horrendous the rendition. She cried when she saw a flag or recited the Pledge of Allegiance. It is safe to say she cried at all things patriotic. It is not a big surprise then that years ago, maybe as many as 2 decades ago, she began decorating her house with a flare of patriotism. Where Amish inspired paintings once hung and faceless dolls once perched, various American-esque arts and crafts now dominated the house. It was not uncommon to eat off a red plate, drink out of a blue glass and spoon your dishes from an array of serving ware proudly donning stars and stripes. Flags had infiltrated our home on all levels. From cookware to clothing one could not escape those three tear-jerking colors.

Maybe that is why in Jr. High School my mom would ask me and my best friend to sing this song over and over again. We happily obliged because we were 13 and we were the musical axis which allowed the earth to spin. We had just polished our harmonies and bringing someone to tears was just what we needed to convince ourselves that a recording studio was in the near future. Mom never let us down.

Got Along Without You - Teresa Brewer (1952)

I had never heard a recording of this song until I started writing this post.  My mom and I used to sing this as a duet.  I loved singing in harmony like some kids love collecting stickers or stock piling silly bands.  You can never get enough.  You are never satisfied.  You keep asking "one more?" or probably, in my case, demanding "one more!"  She sang that song so many times with me I am surprised she wasn't driven to drink.  Her voice was lighter, delicate and more suited to the soprano melody.  My voice was deeper, lower and I definitely enjoyed singing the alto harmony.   For me, this song is about car rides, lounging in summer pools, waiting in lines and all the other ordinary, routine activities that can possess a day.  We would often pass the time crooning this tune together.  Now I sing it as a solo and something is definitely missing.

Morning Has Broken - Cat Stevens (First published 1931; Cat Steven's recording 1971)

This song was played at an Easter Mass when I was a little girl. We were visiting my Aunt, Uncle and cousins who were then living in Wisconsin. I think I was in Kindergarten but perhaps I was a bit older. Regardless, I was young, but the memory is still palpable. It was the first time I heard the song and I thought it was beautiful. It represents Easter for me and how my mom made holidays like this one so special. We caravanned to dairy country, hunted for our eggs outside in the morning dew, modeled frilly frocks, bonnets and white gloves down a runway known to all others as the church's central aisle and we feasted on baskets of candy clearly forgetting that gluttony is one of the seven Cardinal Sins.

Old Time Rock and Roll - Bob Seeger (1979)

Ok. Quintessential pop culture. Remember? Risky business? Famous scene.....Tom Cruise in his underwear lip-syncing, air guitaring it and shaking his booty. If you don't know this one you were either NOT born yet or you were being held against your will in a Siberian prison camp. I don't particularly like this song but my mom did. Alot. Too much. Mom had her own Tom Cruise moments, albeit she wore slightly more clothes. She'd be shuffling through the house armed with Windex and a roll of paper towels (ammunition with which she was ALWAYS fully locked and loaded). The radio was religiously tuned to WGN and occasionally if us kids were lucky they would play some music. As soon as you heard the initial, descending chords of the piano you knew what was coming. Bob Seeger's, "Just take those old records on the shelf...." would be accompanied by mom's hip-shaking and sashaying around the house. The Windex that was once a fire-arm was now a dance partner. 

This was also a favorite of hers to dance to at weddings. She and my dad REALLY new how to dance. No, I mean REALLY. Not this two people standing near each other kind of interacting as they try to rhythmically move to the same song. I mean holding each other, communicating with your partner, twirling out, reeling in....an expression of love whether it be for a person, a moment, or merely the song itself. My mom knew how to dance and this song inspired her to grab a partner, windex bottle or husband, and show us how it's done.

Christmas Carols - Pick one. Anyone (Timeless)

Mom loved carols and from the day after Thanksgiving until New Year's our air- waves were saturated with holiday hits. Christmas was the perfect time to press the play button and anything from classical orchestras to pop divas to nostalgic crooners were a possibility. She particularly liked when my sister or I would agree to plunk out a few tunes on the piano and our living room became the unplugged version of a family Christmas. 

There were stages in my life when I loved this. Why stop at the piano? Violins were dusted off, bows were tightened, rosin was applied and new levels of seriousness were adopted. Soon, additions to our family meant new musical opportunities as well. They came with trumpet cases, guitar picks and drumming kits, making the possibilities of our instrumentation dizzying. However, other periods in my life met the holiday musical madness with less luster. I can remember several years answering my mother's request with dramatic sighs and over-active eye rolls. I refused to be the woman at Von Maur studiously seated at the baby grand delivering the Musak-like soundtrack for department store shoppers. Only my baby grand was an out-of-tune upright and I had to make up most of the left hand because the sheet music was too difficult. Someone really needed to tell me to get over myself! 

Luckily, that phase was short lived and I have now inherited my mom's love for Christmas "cheese". No, not the kind that comes on a platter amidst uptight crackers and pretentious olives, but the kind that oozes out of stereos, ipods and yes, my very own piano. 

You Can Call Me Al  by Paul Simon (1986)

My sister and I got along well growing up.  We rarely fought, we played well together and we felt a need to protect and help each other as we ventured out into unknown territories.  We reminded my mom of our harmonious family dynamic often and pointed out how we lived a life free of sibling rivalry, hoping it would score us points in whatever parent-child contest we wanted to compete.  It didn't work.  We still got reprimanded, scolded and consequences ensued.  Our offense was usually laughing.  No, it's not a typo.  Laughing was responsible for most of the trouble my sister and I seemed to attract.  We argued vehemently in our parent's court that this was a ridiculous infraction.  Most kids are fighting, drinking, experimenting with drugs but we are .......laughing? Where is there a house law against laughing?  Most houses are in NEED of more laughter.  We were scrupulous and unrelenting in our defense.  Of course, it didn't matter.  Not when the opposing lawyer is also the judge.

In truth, it wasn't typical laughing.  This was decibel breaking, uncontrollable, belly-aching spasms of silliness.  Once we started we couldn't stop and it only escalated until our bodies were doubled over in pain and tears were streaming down our cheeks.  By then, we were addicted to the high and just about anything could set us off into a relapse of greater and, I'm guessing, more annoying proportions.  This song was one such catalyst.

It was the 1980s and we were on a road trip to see the American West.  The Dodge Caravan was our home for the next 3 weeks and my sister and I carved out our spaces in the back seats.   We had the typical car activities packed and ready to go; puzzles, cards, drawing supplies, books, snacks, etc.  We really didn't need anything at all.  Our most popular road trip game was backseat dancing and our favorite song for this was Paul Simon's "You Can Call Me Al".  We had moves for all the verses and choruses.  We arm-rolled, thumb danced, clapped, head-shaked and performed any other move you could comfortably execute from within the confines of your seat belt.  It was glorious, silly fun.  I am sure we got a little out of hand and the front seat patrol darted around several times with looks and words of warning.  I don't know if I remember that dance routine but I KNOW I remember how to laugh..........that's really all that matters.