Growing up in the 1970s and 80s, music defined each era, distinctly. In our house, we weren’t really allowed to listen to music as my Dad was nearly deaf. If you listened to the radio in your room you did so at your own peril.
‘Turn off that racket!’
His hearing seemed to come and go depending upon the musical crime you might be committing. Only music from the 40s and 50s failed to assault his ears. But we were like prisoners in a prison camp. He couldn’t keep us from something so fundamental. We would resist the random rules, smuggle in contraband, and keep our ears glued to the speaker for Casey Kasem and America’s Top 40 on Sundays. In the car with my mom, she would sometimes allow us to listen to music if my dad wasn’t there. It was a gamble. But we had to remember exactly where my dad had the dial set for his talk radio and AM radio news shows. Or we would all be in trouble, including her. My brother was the best at being able to dial in the correct station, before pre-sets showed up in newer cars.
True Love
The mixtape was a real thing for my generation. Often, it would be compiled of songs off the radio, where we would listen at one of our friend’s houses until the song came on, then hit record. Sure, it was pirating – we didn’t know that then – but it was the only way to get the recording on our meager allowance. Whenever we successfully recorded a hit song we cheered. It would be shared so often the cassette tape would wear out.
Back then, if a boy really liked you you would know it because he might gift you with a mixtape. Something that took hours and days to record. Real effort. If he wanted to ‘go steady’ with you he would offer up the tape. It was a valuable thing. As valuable as an engagement ring, even in the 8th grade. And, as such if you broke up with him he would ask for his mixtapes back, and you would sadly hand them over. The relationship was well and truly finished. I always missed the music more than the boy.
So, it might not surprise you all to know that I was tipped off that Jeff wanted more than a platonic friendship when he handed over a mix cd he had burned for me. Yes, I was over 30 years old, but we both knew that a mix cd was like a mixtape in high school. There was no denying that it meant something. Decades later, when we were clearing out all our stuff before we moved to Spain I found that cd. It went in the box of important things. An artifact from the very start of our romantic relationship.
The Soundtrack of Our Lives
Music in our immediate family has always been important. Jeff would memorize all the latest songs and sing them when dropping the kids off at school. They liked it when they were little, but grew to loathe the embarrassment when Jeff would perform in front of their friends. I, too, got in on the act, but for a different reason.
When they were growing up, I rarely denied my children anything. They had way too much, I will admit. One time, a girl on Emilie’s sixth grade soccer team came to the house. She was wearing a limited edition pair of UGGS I recognized. These were not UGGS you could run out and buy. I worked for a large luxury retailer. There were six pairs in the entire chain. I had one of those pairs and happily gave them to Emilie. I asked the girl where she got the boots and she said Emilie was giving out UGGS to all her friends. It seemed I was supplying the 6th Grade girls select soccer team with UGGS. Emilie would ask for another pair, I would buy them, she would give them away. Like Robin Hood, if Robin Hood had a benefactor. Except, well, not. I overheard her tell a friend once – ‘My Mom will get me whatever I want.’ At her boarding school in high school, I am pretty sure I supplied the entire girls dorm with premium hair care products and make-up. Even Emilie couldnāt go through that much product herself. She is nothing if not generous. š³
Emilie called me once to ask me to send one of the girls a full kit for softball. The girlās mom had said NO to her playing softball. Emilie had a workaround. She told the girl I would pony up the gear. Ugh! When I said Nope, she was a little upset.
‘What am I supposed to tell her now?!’
So, after the UGGS thing years before, I began paying a little more attention to the supply chain in our house. Products entering and exiting. I will admit to some random spot checks of backpacks in the morning. It did not go down well. And, instead of blindly purchasing whatever my children asked for – premium brand names – I said the dreaded word ‘No.’ Gasp! Wait, What?! Their faces went white. They couldn’t spell N-O. And, after that, music began to play a role in the No, as well. If they asked me for a 40th pair of Nikes ‘I have to have new Air Force Ones!!’, or another pair of Jordans, I began shaking my head. ‘Not today.’ This is when the negotiations would start. Pleading, Begging. Sometimes, other less than benign words and phrases would be thrown my way. But I stuck to my guns and wasn’t above serenading them with that Bee Gees classic Tragedy! They grew to hate that song and the dance I might perform in the middle of a store, in front of their friends or random strangers. It was practically torture! I am not sure they have ever heard the Brothers Gibb belt out the original, but I did my best impression. My thought was that if they didn’t want to hear the song they shouldn’t ask for yet another completely unnecessary, high-dollar-value, thing-a-ma-bob. It worked. Mostly.
The Modern Mixtape
Music has moved on through the years. And the mechanisms for delivering it. But I know Jeff still loves me because on our adventure south this week we got in the car and he immediately turned on the music. And not just any music. It was a playlist – the grandchild of the 70s mixtape – that he had made just for me. All the songs from our childhoods. The music from high school, including the songs we used to play for the kids. And, then, there it was. The Bee Gees were singing Tragedy! I hadn’t heard that song – other than me singing it – in more than 40 years.
We sang out loud. We butchered forgotten lyrics. We laughed until it hurt. My new playlist ran from the mid to late 70’s, up to the 2000’s. The disco era was a long one. It can get you all the way from the farm to the Portuguese border. We played our own version of the 70’s American game show Name That Tune. I had forgotten how happy these songs make me. How many memories come flooding back of my brothers and sister, my friends in the neighborhood, after just a few notes. But the best part is, after all these years, this latest playlist lets me know that Jeff still wants to ‘go steady’ with me.
Viva Espana 