Thinking of Mama

Our mother died suddenly on September 15, 2008. There was no warning, no lingering illness, just a phone call while I was at work from Bobby, my sister's husband, telling me as gently as he could that mama was gone. I say our mother because it seems selfish to claim her as mine alone. My sister Rhonda, and my brother Jimmy, and I lost our mother.

I have no doubt that there are many others who on Mother's Day think of loss, memories, and wishes. I hope that you also find comfort in your remembrances.

When we were children, my mother listened to the radio and sang along. My own love of music and my eclectic tastes in artists is linked directly to her. She listened to Aretha and Patsy, taught me to appreciate James Brown and Johnny Cash.

In the summer, when the days were long and hot, we liked to go outside late in the evening, in that lull before dark when the fireflies were just barely visible and the evening breeze had begun to blow a little coolness into the air. My mother would chat with our next door neighbor and my sister and I, and one of our playmates would inevitably form a line and pretend that we were the Supremes, or Martha and the Vandellas, or any one of the myriad girl groups that were a part of popular culture. I wrote the following poem years ago. Thank you mama for giving me a soundtrack to my life.

To Martha, Aretha et. al.
On warm nights my sister and I

danced the streets,

toe tapping,

hip swinging,
finger popping—

do whopping up and down the block.

Singing “stop” and

   “stay” and

       “ooh baby love”—

doing a slow soul strut under a summer moon

as the night breathed fire in the step.

The Marvelettes performing "Mr. Postman." Please hit the pause button on the player in the left column prior to watching the video. This is still one of my favorite sing-a-long songs.

It's All in the Rhythm

It's no secret that I love music. There is something wonderfully primal about the rhythms of a really good song. Of course, I like instrumental compositions as well, percussion, some strings, the tinkling of a keyboard. I enjoy jazz, blues, country, R&B, classical, opera (mainly Italian, especially Puccini); there is no genre in which I haven't found something to like. That's why the video link that my sister sent me made me positively orgasmic. Rather than try to describe it to you, take a listen and experience it for yourself. It's a sort of global symphony of the song, Stand By Me. Don't forget to locate the music player to the left and hit the pause button, then hit the play button on the video below. It's a bit slow to load, for some reason I have to hit the play button twice before it will start.

Stand By Me Playing For Change Song Around The World from Concord Music Group on Vimeo.

Music Is So Good For Your Soul!

In The Wiz , the Broadway musical version of The Wizard of Oz, Evillene, the wicked witch, sings a show stopping number, No Bad News , in which she warns that there will be hell to pay to anyone who dares to bring her any bad news.

When I wake up in the afternoon
Which it pleases me to do
Don't nobody bring me no bad news
'Cause I wake up already negative
And I've wired up my fuse
So don't nobody bring me no bad news

I've taken Evillene's admonishment to heart and decided to refuse to discuss all of the bad news that fills the headlines and to instead focus on things that entertain me. So in spite of President Bush's declaration that we are indeed in a recession, I have elected not to sing the recession blues, at least for today.

I live my life through music and I listen to a fairly eclectic mix of genres as attested to by my playlist (temporarily removed so that you may listen to the various videos that I've included in this post).

One of the reasons that I like music so much is that there are songs to fit every mood and occasion in your life. When I hear Elton John's Daniel, I'm immediately transported back to the summer of 1972 when I was caught up in the war protest and a good looking boy on whom I had a colossal crush. That was also the summer that I listened to Joni Mitchell's Blue on the album of the same title, over and over again.

When your heart is breaking and you're 17, there is no better accompaniment than Joni. Between Joni and Laura Nyro, I came to realize that there is a certain satisfaction in weeping your eyes out, convinced that your world will end if you can't have the object of your affection.

I wasn't then nor am I now continually morose, although I do have a predilection for sad songs. To paraphrase Tolstoy, happy songs are all alike, it's the sad ones that suck you in and linger in your head. Sometimes sad songs have an edge to them that catches my attention. I still love Laura Nyro's version of her song, Eli's Coming . Especially the last minute and-a-half where she slows down the rhythm and just grooves with it.

Then there is Aretha singing Think, upset at the way she's been treated but warning the low-down object of her affection that he'd better "...think, think about what you're trying to do to me." You just know that he's going to be sorry some day.

Several years back, Toni Braxton released a song, Seven Whole Days, that I declared to be the national anthem for every woman who has ever been done wrong by a man. (Sorry guys, get your own damn song!) The song centers on that peculiar disease common to men known as Phoneuseitis, characterized by an inability to pick up a telephone and make a call. Braxton's pretty fed up by her guy's failure to telephone, singing, "Seven whole days, not a word from you; seven whole nights, and I'm just about through... Can't take it no more; I've had about enough of this. I'd rather be on my own."


As I was driving to work a couple of weeks ago, I heard a new song that really caught my ear. The new song reminded me of a not so new song with the same theme. Both songs made me laugh wickedly and think bad thoughts. I really like these songs. I warn you that it may distress you if you take my pleasure in these songs too seriously and attempt to analyze my affection for them. I've decided that they are both deserving of status as my new national anthem for women who find themselves infected with Payback Syndrome also known as Justifiabilitis. I've decided to just alternate between singing them upon rising every morning. I think that it's fitting that one is an R&B tune, I Busted Out Your Windows, by Jazmine Sullivan and the other a country song, Before He Cheats, by Carrie Underwood. I told you that my tastes are eclectic.

BTW, the videos include the lyrics.



Note: I own a lot of CDs. Did you know that if you join a record club, purchase 14 CDs for $0.99 plus shipping and handling($6.99), buy the three or four additional CDs to fulfill your membership requirement, and then don't order anything for six months, the record club will throw you out? It sends you a rather cold letter stating that as you haven't made a purchase in quite some time that you are no longer a member. Another six months go by and then something miraculous happens--the record club sends you an offer for another 14 CDs for $0.99 plus shipping and handling, and the whole cycle starts again.

I've been thrown out of BMG and Columbia House (I think that its music CD division is now defunct) more times than Ralph Nader has run for president.