So last night I got carded! I'm 64, so I can only assume that the darkness (this was a club) and my shortness and my glasses (the pink ones with tortoise shell) disguised my advanced state of decay. My younger daughter had gotten us tickets to see a preview of a new indie documentary about Stephen Merritt and Magnetic Fields. Thus I found myself with a herd of callow youth, and loving every minute. My older daughter discovered Magnetic Fields and she passed it on to my younger son, and a few years ago he said, "Mom, I think you'd like them" and helped me pick out 69 Love Songs. It was love at first listen. I don't care how old I am, you're never too old to have crushes and fall in love with bands and songs. It's too much fun. The film was terrific, and two of my favorite songs were part of the film - Papa Was a Rodeo and The Book of Love. I know all the words to these two songs and a few more, and try to harmonize while I listen at home. I use my bass voice as Merritt's voice is so low. Merritt's take on love is ironic and deadpan. But it's really wise, as well. He's a sharp lyricist, and since I admire words, the music really delights.
This irresponsible behavior in me began long ago. As a preteen I was part of a local Elvis Presley fan club, and we made up cheers about him. I screamed standing on my seat to Chuck Berry and the Elverly Brothers in a Richmond, Virginia auditorium when I was in my early teens. I mourned Buddy Holly. I read fan magazines and wrote letters. My life was a one blank after another between sock hops. A few years ago my best friend from those years sent me a note she'd found in a trunk. One of those notes that got me poor citizenship marks on my report card. It made me realize I was one silly, trivial girl, and I waited to see if she was going to threaten blackmail, but I guess she thought it hopeless at this late date. I did have some deep thoughts, but sparingly, between gossiping and mooning over boys. Given the huge rollers my hair was pinned in at night, it's amazing my brain could do any activity. It must have been yelling in pain continuously.
Music makes the world bearable, and the surest way to a hit of joy is to turn on a song you love (the volume must be quite high) and sing along. I don't intend to ever give this practice up.
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