Day Ninety-Nine: My Own Music Soundtrack

I once wrote about the books that mark the many important phases of my life, so I got to thinking about the other of the creative arts that I love and that is music. So much more then books, a person's taste in music says a great deal about their personality, values and passions. This, of course, is both a good and a bad thing,. After all, do we really want everyone to know that much about us by looking through our download list, CD collection or dusty album covers? I think that the reason music so speaks to who we are so directly is because music speaks directly to our soul. Granted, some of us have more soul than others. Here's a peak into mine, musically speaking....


I grew up with a mother who loved music. Her album collection was quite limited, either by money or design, I'm not sure which. Even if she didn't have a large collection, she had a very distinct one. She listened to Barbra Streisand, the Carpenters, Roberta Flack and more Barbra Streisand. What I gained from this formative exposure was an appreciation for schmaltz. I love sap. Mind you, not just any sap. It has to be pitch perfect. Say what you want about these recording artists, they have amazing pipes if not the most engagingly deep lyrics. I remember dancing around the living room with a hairbrush pretending I was a singing diva like Barbra. I got the diva part but I cannot sing to save my life. The perfect blend of pitch, range and orchestral accompaniment during these tender years leaves me with a love of Ms. Streisand (it's the Jewish thing too...), Celine Dion, Linda Ronstadt, Natalie Cole and Vanessa Williams. They aren't hip, cool or edgy, but man, these girls can sing!

I clearly remember the first musical purchase I ever made. My great aunt took me to Bradlees and let me pick out my first tape to go with a cassette layer she bought for my thirteenth birthday. It was The Cars, the debut album from the band with the same name. I take more than a bit of pride in this first selection because over 30 years later the music still stands up. It is the first real mainstream integration of pop, new wave and punk out of the late 70s. Given this pedigree, I have no idea why I was drawn to it. (I should have run with these urges.) I felt like a musical geek in my early years. My grade school friends had Shawn Cassidy records and knew the words to pop songs from the radio. I didn't have any of my own records and I rarely listened to the radio, preferring to spend my time vegetating in front of the Brady Bunch or Gilligan's Island. With this purchase, I felt like I finally moved a step beyond my childhood years into the wide world of teenage music. I still love this album and I it is clear that I didn't chose it because of Rick Ocasic's rocking good looks...yikes! (How these guys get super models is beyond me...)

Honorable Mention: Michael Jackson, "Thriller" (1982). (Was there anyone who didn't buy this album in the 1980's?!)

I am a child of the 80's. That means my high school years were full of big hair, shoulder pads, leg warmers, MTV and Madonna. Lots and Lots of Madonna. My best friend in high school tried to become Madonna; from the black plastic bracelets to the raggy hair tie and the black leggings with a short flouncy skirt. She wasn't exactly Madonna, but she wasn't boring either. What was appealing to me about Madonna, and to the multitude of other teenage girls, was her attitude. She brought sex to the table- sex with power. She was strong, she was in your face, she was cooler than cool and she made no apologies for who she was, ever. There wasn't anyone else like her at that time. She may not have been the best singer, but she was going to the top come hell or high water. Now, everyone from Mariah Carey to Rhiana copies her style to much marketing success. The things that made me love Madonna throughout my teens, twenties and thirties is exactly what makes her a turn off now that I am in my forties. She is still steely, driven and sexy but her edge hasn't softened with age. She hasn't evolved. She still tries to keep up with what is new and hip and she is slowly becoming a parody of herself. If she'd just take it down a notch and show us that 40 and 50 can still be sexy and powerful without trying to be 20, I'd be the first to sing her praises. Until then, she is a fun and empowering part of my own personal evolution.

Honorable Mention: Pat Benatar, "Get Nervous" (1982).

Okay, this is a bit embarrassing. This was my first concert. Yes, Duran Duran. I told you I was child of the 80s! They were the biggest thing going and it was because of my generation's obsession with MTV. Their videos were on every 15 minutes during my high school years. Of course, me and all my girlfriends were full of raging wanna-be women hormones, so most of us were "in love" with one of these guys. I look at this album cover and cannot believe that we thought they were so hot. They look like girls! Anyway, me and 5 of my best high school girlfriends waited in long lines to buy the tickets and them waited in even longer lines to get into the concert. We waited for hours so we could be in the front row, and we were. I was jammed up against the barricade that separated the crowd from the stage and I stayed jammed up there for about 3 hours. When my mother saw the bruises across my torso the next day I really thought she'd kill me. But wow, did I think that was worth it. I was hoarse for a week from all the screaming. The 60s Beatles fans had nothing on my lung capacity. Their music may not stand the test of time, but every one of them brings back great memories. I must reluctantly admit that I'm still "Hungry Like the Wolf...."

Honorable Mention: Bryan Adams, "Reckless Tour" (1985).

Here is where my musical evolution takes a quantum leap, during my college years. It was here I was introduced to a wide spectrum of music, from 80 heavy metal, to punk to the fledgling beginning of rap. Kids had all types of music in their rooms, at parties and on their car tape player. When I heard U2 for the first time, I remember the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. Here was a truly talented group of guys rocking out some seriously good music. More importantly, their music had something to say. They mixed their liberal politics with their sound and made a fortune doing it. The music has stood the test of time and then some. Hands down, they are my favorite rock band and I admit that is partly because of their politics. They walk the walk and talk the talk. Who else has a lead singer who has won a Noble Peace Prize? U2 started international awareness of injustice long before it became red carpet fashionable. On top of that, they are all family men with long standing marriages. How many rockers can claim that? Their music will be around for a very long time, but the impact these individual people have had on the world is immeasurable.

Honorable Mention: INXS, "Listen Like Thieves" (1985) and Melissa Etheridge, "Melissa Etheridge" (1988).

It was during my college years that I found Mozart. I took a music history class on a whim and found one of the great musical loves of my life. My grandfather had for years been trying to get me to listen to classical music. Yawn. What did he know? Then I heard Mozart. His compositions, to me, is the essence of what music is. His combination of notes convey all the range of human emotion on a very primal yet divine level. I believe that he was truly touched by God to have such an amazing musical gift. I don't understand the process of writing music, let alone symphonies, but I don't need to have any intellectual understanding to have his music speak to me. Whenever I feel the need to be grounded, to feel calm or to just relax, this is the music I play. I have an appreciation for other classical composers, but, to me, there is no one who comes close to Mozart. Watch "Amadeus," the film staring Tom Hulse and F. Murray Abraham, and you too will get a feel for the genius that was Mozart.

Honorable Mention: YoYo Ma, "Classic Yo Yo Ma" (2001).

We all have that one song that can immediately take us to our happy place. The song that makes it impossible not to move, to feel joy, to jam. That song for me is "Gettin' Jiggy With It." I LOVE this song. It doesn't matter how many times I hear it, it always has the same effect upon me, much to my children's embarrassment. Of course, from there, I became a huge fan of all things Will Smith-music, t.v., movies. He introduced to me rap and hip hop that was positive and fun. No "nigga," no "ho," no "gansta," just the joy of the music and the beat. It doesn't hurt that I think he is smokin' hot. He has been dissed by many a rap critic for being soft, but I don't care. His music makes me happy. Sometimes that is more than enough. Come on y'all, get jiggy wit' it!

Honorable Mention: Black Eyed Peas, "Elephunk" (2004).


Ah, Ella. Has there ever been a voice like Ella?! I was introduced to her during my law school studies. A friend had a dinner party and had her playing in the background. I know I had listened to her before, but this was the first time I really heard her sing. Wow. I have a very large collection of her music and I listen to it over and over. I play it when I cook, I play it in the car, I play it when I have a dinner party. She is one of the few artists, like Mozart, that seems to speak directly to my soul. Without her, we wouldn't have the huge success of other jazz, R&B and soul singers like Sade, Toni Braxton, Mary J. Blige and others that have all followed in her musical footsteps. I enjoy these other singers, but there is no recording artist, dead or alive, like Ella Fitzgerald.

Honorable Mention: Etta James, "Matriarch of the Blues" (1999).

With my 30s came the appreciation for country music. I really didn't care for any of it until this point, with the only exception being Patsy Cline. (I consider her a musical goddess that defies genre.) Once I heard the Dixie Chicks though, all country bets were off. Their lyrics spoke directly to me. They sang about women taking charge, growing and dealing with ranges of emotions. As a domestic violence prosecutor at the time, the song "Goodbye Earl" was music for my cause. So many women that are victims of domestic violence are rendered powerless. This song turned the cycle on its head and gave this fictional "victim" full power. Rarely, if ever, is this actually the case, but the song told me that these ladies totally got it. And then, the shit hit the fan. The ladies from Texas dissed the Texan President and their liberal politics came spewing forth on a very, very pissed off conservative, country fan base. It made me love them more. Not only did they stand by their right to free speech, they refused to apologize for what they thought was right. This cost them dearly, as fans went screaming in the other direction. It isn't often in these modern times to find artists with real artistic and political integrity and these ladies have it both in spades. They haven't made an album in 4 years, so I am hoping that they haven't given up the road less traveled. I will be first in line to buy the next once it comes out.

Honorable Mention: Trisha Yearwood, "Songbook: A Collection of Hits" (2001).

My ipod currently has 4004 songs which means I can leave it playing for over 11 days without hearing the same song twice. I have every genre from Rock to New Age, Classical to Country, Easy Listening to Hip Hop and everything in between. I have been fortunate enough to see a wide range of artists live in concert from my shameful beginnings of Duran Duran through Tina Turner (HOT!), Elton John, Harry Connick, Jr., Lyle Lovitt, TLC, Paul McCartney, the B52s and the apex of my concert experience, U2. I hope the next 40 years brigs with it an appreciation for other types of music that I still don't quite understand, mainly opera, but we shall see. I like to think that my ipod reflects who I am as a person- open minded, eclectic, joyful and one seeking perfection. What does your music collection say about you?

Day Ninety-Eight: Mom's Parenting Dirty Little Secrets

Dirty Little Secrets, Who doesn't have any? We all have things we would like to keep the neighborhood from talking about. I believe that secrets have a way of always coming out, bubbling up to the surface like the Titanic at just the worst possible moment. Living the truth is the only way to assure that our secrets don't bite us in the ass when we can cope with them least.

I have often said that the hardest part of my transition from career track to Mommy track was the feeling of being left in the dust by the perfect Uber-Moms all around me. You know the type, the Moms who love to go to play dates with their toddlers, who make all the homemade, gluten free, heart healthy snacks for the classroom, who live in their minivans carting around their offspring to violin lessons, Chinese lessons and karate class all with a smile on their face and a song in their heart. Ugh. The thought turns my stomach. Who can live up to that? Well, it turns out, none of us can. The sooner that we all own that, claim it, share it and accept it, the better we as Moms will be.

I just read "Dirty Little Secrets: from Otherwise Perfect Moms" by Trisha Ashworth and Amy Noble. I have read their other books, "I Was a Really Good Mom Before I had Kids" and "I'd Trade My Husband for a Housekeeper" with a great deal of relief and more than a bit of joy. The real secret is that none of us are perfect, we all sick of the comparison/competition with other Moms and that we all need a lot more laughter in the everyday. I whole heartily agree! These women were fast track marketing professionals who then decided to stay at home to raise children. They found what I found: it is really hard to find "real" people while staying at home. Their answer was to write about it. They interviewed in great depth over 100 Moms from all over the country to get the material for their books. Here is a sampling of my favorites from "Dirty Little Secrets" (Otherwise known as "Been There, Done That"):

(Dedication)

to all moms

who are courageous enough to speak the truth, lift the veil,

and tell it like it is. Your honesty puts us one step closer

to loving motherhood as much as we love our kids.

(my two cents: AMEN, SISTERS!!!)

Sometimes I think the Nanny does a better job than I do.

My shrink tells me we need to laugh more.

What a waste of money.

Some nights when my husband and I go to bed,

I roll over and"play dead."

All I can think is "I just can't handle it if one

more person pokes me today."

When I'm at Safeway I buy a Nordstrom

gift card and charge it as groceries.

I can justify it that way.

Planning dinner usually throws me over the edge.

One night when I was stressing out and my 4 year old

son looked up at me and said,

"Just order the f*$%in' pizza!"

My kids yell because I yell at them.

I tell my husband I am going to go potty but actually

lock myself in the bathroom, sit on the edge of the tub,

and read People.

In keeping with the theme of total honesty and lifting the veil, here are some "Dirty Little Secrets" I can add to the conversation:

Whenever my kids want to go to Chuck-E-Cheese or some other

horrible kid-type place, I often tell them that its closed.

That way, I escape the inevitable whining and begging.

I figure that I grew up watching too much crap t.v. but still managed to

graduate from law school. Thus, I rarely feel guilty using the t.v.

as my babysitter when I need to be left alone.

I had four kids, so I figure that means there are built in play partners. I am officially

off the hook for playing army guys, play dough or cops & robbers.

That's what their brothers are for.

If I could get away with it, I would serve breakfast

for dinner most every night of the week.

I am annoyed with the whole "Circle Notebook" concept.

("Circle Notebook" is one note written by kids to parents,

and parents write back once each week)

When my kids bring home their notebook for me to write in,

I wonder "Who said it was okay to have me do damn homework?"

I know the Nanny/babysitter/day care does a better job than I do.

Why the hell else would I pay them?

I'm okay with that.

I pretend I have no idea how my kids heard such a nasty word.

I have been told to "live in the moment," "be more present" and enjoy this time

more because it goes by so fast. That's all well and good, but when the moment

involves so much poop, vomit or other bodily secretions,

I could live without the moment.

There are days I absolutely know I would be a better mother if I went back to work.

I don't feel guilty about losing my temper with the kids.

They need to know, in no uncertain terms, that sometimes

they really are acting like little shits.

I don't love motherhood but I do love my kids.

Here's To Living the Truth,

Lifting the Veil and

Uplifting One Another.

GO MOMS!

Day Ninety-Seven: Complain, Complain, Complain

I've been out of commission for the past few weeks with a litany of surgical related issues. I have the "good luck", or should I say bad DNA, to have a lovely affliction called bunions. Who ever named this foot defect was someone without a sense of humor or imagination. The only thing that comes to mind is an old lady named Myrtle in a farmhouse dress and old fashioned brown tie shoes complaining that her bunions hurt after a long day of cooking for the boys out in the field. It should be so easy. In my case, it turns out to walk without pain I needed three bones broken and reset in each foot along with the shortening of a tendon or two, two small pins to secure the new bone setting, one large protruding pin during the healing process and two train tracks of sutures across the top and side of my foot. This brings to mind combat wounds not ole' Myrtle. Fun, it sure as hell ain't.

I had this surgery last spring with much success. I opted to do it again before the warm weather hit again so I may keep up with my boys activities and remain pain free. This appeared to be a good plan on its face. However, upon hoisting myself up out of bed and onto crutches, I tore cartilage in my opposing knee. This required a second trip to the surgeon for repair in less than a week of the first surgery. I am now hobbling about in a quasi-duck like manner with a huge bandage and club foot like boot on my right foot and a large ace bandage on my left knee. If anyone takes a photo of me while ambulatory, I think I'll kill them and eat the photographic evidence.

The worst part for me is all the medication required to get through the surgeries and the healing. I do not tolerate well the anesthesia nor the narcotic pain pills that were prescribed for my benefit. Sure, I got through it all fine, but it is is now 8 days after my initial surgery, 2 days after my second and 1 day off of all pain pills and I still feel vaguely hungover from all the medication coursing through my body. At least with a hangover you have the memories of all the fun before the pain. With this particular hangover, I missed the party and moved straight on to lump of nauseous misery. I guess I'll have to make up for the party part when I am fully recovered. (So long as such a party does not beget more surgery...)

I have realized that I am a complainer. Well, DUH. Not a novice complainer, but a first class, true to my Jewish American roots, "I can't believe this is happening to me" complainer. I am not taking all this particularly well. I have been mildly pissed off since I injured my knee. Never mind that we have health insurance to pay for all this, we have a medical reimbursement account to pay the deducible (that I think I've blown the roof off of by now) and the money to pay a legion of babysitters to help with child care while I recuperate. I also have a husband who has completely taken up all the slack over the past 9 days while working full time. I have a father who has no problem driving here to take care of whatever my husband can't. I had family to take the kids the first weekend I was out of commission, so I actually got some peace and quiet. I also have a multitude of neighbors and friends who have sent food, flowers and good wishes during this medical drama. With all that I am I should be thankful for, I am still complaining. Why? Because this sucks, that's why.

I started writing this blog to focus on the positive, on creating kindness and goodwill in a world gone sarcastic and coarse. I knew I had to focus on what I could be doing to change my own outlook on life and to create the type of example I wanted to set for my children. Turns out, I am a complainer. I am a glass half-empty, "woe is me," sarcastic commentator when the chips are really down. I know intellectually all about kindness, compassion and optimism, but it is not encoded in my DNA. I will continue to work on both showing and feeling gratitude for my lot in life, but in the meantime, at my essence I am a combination of Joan Rivers, David Sedaris and Fran Fine all rolled into one hobbling, complaining mess. Who ever said that kindness was funny? I'm grateful for the laughter my complaining begets every time. After all, laughter is the best medicine.