Is Blogger Going To Work Today?

What a pain in the ass Blogger has been lately. Anyhoo, here is what I was fixin’ to post yesterday, or was it the day before??

So there I was, minding my very own business, singing happily (maybe even on key, maybe). “I only think of you on two occasions. That’s day and night.”

“Ummm… yeah, only, Mommy, that’s pretty stalkery. Did your generation cause law enforcement agencies to enact restraining orders?” Lane 2 asked in a condescending way.

“So what if Mommy gets lost in the 80s once in a while? It’s not like I do it often. And what kind of question is that anyhow?”

“Well, Mom, you’re kinda like really into it and stuff and you always say it’s the lyrics that make the song. But those lyrics are, umm…”

“I know. Zip it. I’m trying to enjoy a flashback here.”

“Yeah, Sis, get off Mom’s mojo,” Lane 1 defended.

“He’s only being nice to you because he wants something. She isn’t stupid Dingleberry Fin.”

“No. But you are!”

“Guys! Knock it off! How can I feel the groove with you two yammerin’ like a couple of morons? We are the world. We are the children. We are the ones who make a brighter…”

“Dude, Ma, maybe she is right about your little flashback here.”

In my very best Bob Dylan, “It’s true we’d make a better day just you and me,” I continued.

As I sang loudly, more to annoy than enjoy, I really flashed back. My kids are about the age I was when I participated in Hands Across America. That was so cool! I got all nostalgic and made them listen to the story of how it all went down. As my brain wrapped around what happened that day way back in 1986, I found my skin had goosebumps.

My sister Angie held one of my hands, and some stranger person held my other. We stood on Grand and River Roads, in the same spot where I was also hit by a car. (Weird flashback there, but a blog for another day.) Anyhow, we stood there holding hands as far as the eye could see. It was a weird but good feeling. I don’t know if we made a difference that day, but just being a part of it felt really cool, and to this day, still does.

I remember someone was playing music for the event. When We Are the World came on, all interlocked hands went up in the air, all mouths sang along. An unrehearsed choir that in my mind sounded pretty damn good, rang through the street. Of course, poor Angie at my right probably didn’t think it all sounded so good. She has never been a big fan of my voice. In fact, when she finally got her first car, you know what she said to me? Oh, I’ll tell you because I remember it verbatim.

“Hey Lois. There will be no singing by you in my new car.”

As we drove along, I thought she would become more engrossed in her driving skills and I quietly and sneakily began singing along again, “Sometimes you’re better off dead. There’s a gun in your hand, it's pointing at your head. You think you're mad, too unstable, kicking in chairs and knocking down tables in a restaurant. Call the police, there's a madman around…”

“Call the police to get your horrible voice out of my car!!!”

“Take me home. I hate you, and I’m telling Mom!”

“So take, take me home, ‘cuz I don’t remembah,” she sang.

Angie was singing and mocking me all in one breath. And every time I sang… hell, even today, she still says, “Ummm… Lois, about your voice…”

But that one moment in time, that historic event, that part of the 80s I hope to not forget, Angie let me sing. Sure, she gave me that sisterly look but she shook her head in slight disgust or maybe it was empathy, and let me carry on my off key tune.

Even my precious father would ask, “Lois, what’d you do with the money?”

I’d offer a perplexed look and Mom would help me understand, “The singing lessons money.”

I still didn’t get it.

So back to my flashback and my kids hating my voice, the only thing I have found on digital cable that I really enjoy are the music channels. I can pick whatever genre of music I want and play it as loud as my TV goes, without commercials.

Every once in a while, I gotta get my 80s on. It’s just part of life. So there I was in a jammeriffic state of mind, when the kids came along and burst my happy little bubble. Today while they are busting their little asses away at school, I’ll be tinkering with the 80s and maybe I’ll even broom dance with some 70s.