A childhood friendship that changed my feelings about music forever
My early introduction to music was not an especially happy one. Sure, I liked it. Who doesn’t? But music was also a source of humiliation. My whole family could dance. My parents demonstrated the latest dances to high school kids. My sister was the star of our young ballet class. Our teacher told my mother not to waste her money continuing my dance lessons. I wanted to grow up to be a singer. Unfortunately, I have a monotone and the other children gave me unChristian looks when I sang the hymns aloud in church. I learned to silently mouth the words. Finally, music lessons. My parents got me an accordion and signed me up for lessons. Everyone who took lessons became part of the band. As the youngest and newest member, I was asked to play my extremely short solo. I had barely started when the bandmaster told me to stop because I was playing the piece wrong. He said he would talk to my teacher. At my next lesson, my teacher, a young teenage boy, confessed he hadn’t corrected me because he preferred my rendition. So much for accordion lessons.
I began to feel music was something better enjoyed alone. While I did enjoy it, I was less than thrilled with all the melancholy lyrics of dying teenagers, cheating boyfriends, and unrequited love. My feelings about music were definitely mixed.
That didn't change until the summer before ninth grade. It was a beautiful, sunny day, perfect for being outdoors. I was walking down the street with my two friends, Kathy and Patty. These first cousins were together so much they had developed the secret language of sisters. Suddenly, they started singing the chorus of a song I had never heard. It was fun, it was catchy, it was The Lion Sleeps Tonight. I was mesmerized. Wow. I was in love. “What is that song? Where did you hear it?” The questions tumbled out of me. They not only taught me the chorus, but they also told me about a radio station that played rock. For the rest of the afternoon, I ignored my monotone and belted out the chorus while my friends sang the rest of the lyrics. I had discovered a whole new world.
At home, I negotiated some radio play of my new favorite channel instead of our hometown one. My only request for Christmas that year was a radio to keep in my room. It remains my favorite Christmas present ever, forever imprinted in my memory.
My love of music has never faded. It has reflected my joy, love, heartbreak, political views, and personal growth. It has both mirrored and channeled my place in life. It evokes and makes memories. I feel a kinship with those who share my love of a certain band or song. Music is a communal thing. But it is also a private thing. Every day I spend 20 minutes alone in my bedroom. No people, no animals, and no phones. Just my time to recharge. I lay down, relax, and listen to whatever music I want to hear at that exact moment.
My music tastes are eclectic. They span many decades and genres. Of course, I have my favorites. Those songs that get played more often than others. The Lion Sleeps Tonight remains one of those favorites. I smile every time I hear it as I return to the innocence and optimism of my day in the sun with two wonderful childhood friends.
I can't imagine life without music, any kind of music whether it be singing, playing an instrument, or simply listening. If poetry is the voice of the heart, music is its spirit and, as with any spirit, it has the power to transform. Your family knew this and tried to force their experience with it onto you. I'm sure they were well meaning though definitely misguided. In the end, however, you found your own transformation. Or did it find you?
What a wonderful memoir of your struggles with music. So glad you came to peace and tranquility with music in the end. I believe The Lion Sleeps Tonight had a comeback like some other hit songs of a rather unique type. Perhaps when The Lion King came out.
My twin brother and I were always terrible with musical instruments. First, when both of our grandmothers taught themselves to play piano "by ear." Our mother sent us upstairs to a 17-year-old piano teacher on an upright piano at 7 for lessons. They failed miserably when we were on a radio show and couldn't play a single song--so embarrassed. Our parents tried again with piano accordion (you didn't say whether your accordion was a piano accordion or not). We never got as far as Lady of Spain, but I do remember Blueberry Hill wanting to leave the session to go out and play ball.
Like you, I'm eclectic when it comes to music. I listened mostly on the car radio without other ways of listening to music except TV variety shows. Always loved to dance to music, but never listened to music while I worked or relaxed. As I lose my hearing, I miss hearing songs as they really are being sung--like on The Voice and American Idol.
Kimberly has gone from a well-paid female executive one minute to a desperate woman the next. Thinking her day can't possibly get any worse, she finds out how wrong she is when she goes home. The only way to set things straight is to get even.
