Bad Music and Memories

I like music.  I can appreciate pretty much any kind.  My play lists are ever-changing and diverse.  There might be some 90's rap alongside John Denver and then Erasure.  I like to think my taste is rather eclectic.  More than once I've had someone remark on the variety of these play lists.

The other day I was listening to Seals and Croft.  Yeah, I know....  But  hearing Seals and Croft (or Peter, Paul, and Mary or Gordon Lightfoot or The Doobie Brothers) reminds me of my childhood.  You see, my folks were music people too.  My Dad, especially, had an appreciation for good music.  His record collection was epic and diverse and his stereo equipment was always state of the art.  At least for the era.  (Sometime ask me about why we had a Beta VCR instead of the usual VHS variety.)  I remember him laying on the floor of our family room, HUGE headphones on his head, eyes closed, listening to his records.  Looking back, he was probably trying to drown out the sounds of us kids!

So yesterday as I was standing at my kitchen sink washing the breakfast dishes and listening to Seals and Croft's Greatest Hits I was instantly transported back to the family room in my childhood home.  I could see the rough plank cedar walls, the Hot Diamond wood stove, the orange sofas.  I remember dancing, twirling, singing in this room to so much good music.  I was a kid.  I was safe.  Everyone in my family was somewhere in that house.  We were a family.  It was a rather idyllic childhood, I suppose.

Then I was struck with how unable I was to duplicate that type of life for my kids.

Damn.

When Bill was here we had impromptu concerts nearly every night while we cleaned up the kitchen after dinner.  I'm sure the kids will remember that.

But it's not the same anymore.  Which then starts me down that slippery path of self-doubt.  What else can't I give them now?  Just how messed up are they going to be because of my inability to be both Mom and Dad?  Will they feel that same safety and security that I did as a child?  When they look back on their childhood what will they feel?  Happy?  Or sad and abandoned?  And while we're on it, are they even eating enough vegetables?  Do they know the stuff that's important?  Gosh, do I even know what's important?!  Yeah, once the loop starts playing in my mind I have a hard time stopping it.

I actually have a record player.  Bill bought it for me as a present one Christmas.  I have lots of records too.  There's something comforting and nostalgic about hearing the scratchy sounds of the needle at the beginning of a record.  And I keep both a dime and a penny near the turntable because you never know when you'll find a skip and need to weigh the needle down a bit in order to listen without interruptions.  My kids know where my records are and they know how to use the record player.  Maybe that's one of the important things they need to know about?  Maybe they will look back and remember their Mom dancing wildly around the living room, singing Duran Duran songs slightly off key (I never said I was a good singer).  And maybe they will have that safe feeling too.