I think I might be good...

It was Parent Night last night at the boys' school.  Chris stayed home with the kids and I went solo, which is usually how we have to handle things like this.  It works for us.

I rarely get to drive alone - anywhere.  I love it.  I enjoy talking with the kids and listening to music appropriate for them, but it's a treat to listen to whatever I want, as loudly as I want and sing while car dancing.  I sing and car dance with the kids in the car, but they don't like it.  It embarrasses them.  Chris doesn't like it either.  He says, "Please don't clap."

Oldest Boy's teacher auditioned for American Idol over the summer knowing she wouldn't make it because of her age - she's too old (I'm older than her, so I can say that).  I didn't hear the entire story, but the gist was she had drawn enough attention to herself that they allowed her to sing.  She's a belter who can carry a tune and she sang - Pat Benatar's Hit Me With Your Best Shot.

My brother Mallory Joe and I used to sing every word of every Pat Benatar song in my bedroom at the top of our lungs.  I know, who didn't? 

My friend Lynn P. Carlson was/is a belter and sang any time she could find a microphone.  Working swim meets, there was always a PA system (we were lifeguards), so the opportunity was hers many, many times.  She sang Patty Smythe's The Warrior, anything Pat Benatar, or Belinda Carlisle and occasionally Elvira by the Oakridge Boys.  She even sang at her own wedding - not the kind of tender, looking into your new husband's eyes singing, but the "I can do that, give me the mike!" singing.  I think she closed the party with New York New York.

We all know music is powerful and personal.  Punk Rock Dad recommended a book recently that, among other things, explains "...why people have a lifelong passion for music they heard in their youth...".  I believe the title is This is Your Brain on Music.  (Correct me if I'm wrong - anyone.)

This morning while working out with Supermodel, Pat Benatar's Hit Me With Your Best Shot played in the gym.  I was 14 years old again in my mind, singing with my brother Mallory Joe.  I could see my bedroom, the posters on the walls, my pet parakeet Larry...  So vivid.

What is it about wanting to be able to sing or play an instrument well that grips many of us, even the *shy* ones and at very young ages?  Maybe it's explained in the book.  Probably why Nickelback's Rockstar was so popular.

On the way home from Parent Night yesterday, I took my time, listened to and unabashadly sang along with Joe Cocker, Kid Rock, and a little Sam Cooke.  I believe in church, it would be called, "a joyful noise".

This is for you Lynn P. Carlson:

(The music's not in sync with the visual - sorry, it came that way.)