Sometimes I think I might die if I have to listen to any more songs about elephants and their trunks, or about ducks hatching from classroom incubators. Sometimes I wish I owned an iPod so I could plug myself away from my children’s favorite travel music. I remember being grateful when they loved Paul Simon, but if I have to listen to “diamonds in the soles of her shoes,” one more time I think I might throw my shoes, or myself, out of the moving mini-van. American Girls by Counting Crows is a bit of a breather for me, and for that minor obsession of my oldest I am grateful. I have to agree that it really does have, “Good bass.” But still, I wouldn’t mind listening to the rest of the songs on the CD, all the songs after “American Girls” versus “American Girls” over and over again.. But the three rockers riding behind me have promised to start a riotous mosh pit if I deviate from their music preferences. I believe them.
My husband looked at me on our way home from church and said, “Why don’t they make it so that you can play two different listening selections at once, one for the back and one for the front?” And? I agreed. We miss our Sunday afternoons with Prairie Home Companion. Steve from the Marvelous Day soundtrack isn’t the same as clever ads for catsup.
It could be worse, probably will be. In about eight years I’ll be wishing for these days of sweet Jesus songs when my teenage boys are listening to dark, depressing rants against authority figures or whatever it is they like in their independent, searching-for-self-years. The major difference will be that the boys will probably each own their own personal listening devises, and I will be the one left out. At least now we are all listening together. I’m included, not excluded.
I won’t know all the annoying lyrics to their favorites or know which songs have the best bass unless I force myself into their worlds and subject myself to genres I would never personally enjoy. I remember spending way too much birthday money on a rap CD that I didn’t really like, but thought I should because everyone else my age liked this particular group. I remember my mom not exactly enjoying the bad Christian rap, but I pretended I thought it was brilliant even though deep down I agreed that it was annoying. She allowed us all to be tortured and we listened to the whole thing, her showing her skills at tolerance and me showing my skills at acting.
I supposed that if I could feign interest at 13, I can probably find a way to endure future music choices. I really hope rap is not one of them, or hip hop, or heavy metal. Do you think there is any chance they’ll like folk music? I like folk music. I’m good with Johnny Cash and Patsy Cline. Didn’t Johnny Cash’s last CD do phenomenally well, you know, the one that came out after he died? Wasn’t that because a bunch of teenagers discovered just how cool he really was? Or maybe my boys will discover the grunge music their father listened to? I like that stuff. It’s sort of nostalgic for me now.
Which is probably how I’ll feel about our current music of choice, there will come a day when I’ll miss the innocence and awe of this current musical season. Since being in this mothering thing five years now, I’m learning that all things pass, and when they’re gone there is no going back.