So I was dabbling in iTunes today with my children. It's amazing how techy and smart and intuitive we are building our younger generation. Even Mimi leans over my shoulder and says (borderline smart-ass things), like "just drag it into your playlist, momma." We made a new playlist today that we are loving. Yes, I will share.
I launched into a schpeel about the good old days to my kids today.
Yes, it did age me. But I actually remember these 8-track editions:
We used to have one of these giant consoles with red fabric behind the carved wooden panels. It had a turntable and an eight track player. My mom would turn up the volume and blast Johnny Cash or Anne Murray. Or Charlie Pride. Or The Carpenters. Those are the sounds I grew up listening to . . . .
I told the kids today about my first boom box. Something like this . . . no, much smaller . . .
It took some explaining to even get them to understand that boom boxes had dials to tune in a radio station. And antennae. And you couldn't move them around in your room too much. They are so used to the digital 'seek' function, they can hardly handle the impatient feeling of tuning a radio or putting it my your window to get better reception. I tried to tell them what hot shit I was when I graduated to a dual cassette deck and could sit in my room for hours jumping up at the perfect moment to catch a song off of the radio . . . or to make an old-fashioned MIX TAPE! They about died laughing at the notion of having to hit play and record on one side while the other side was playing . . . all the while remaining completely silent. How many times did my brother walk in on purpose, just as a song was ending and say something embarrassing about my boobs, bra or butt? They were amazed at the effort that used to go into making a mix. No small wonder why we cherished a good mix so much, huh? "What?! They gaped at me, "You couldn't just buy ONE song?!" I love to baffle them with bullshit . . . especially when it's the truth.
Anyhoo . . . . that brought on the discussion about walkmans. Remember those? Or discmans. Gosh, that was cutting edge technology. And that was the ULTIMATE gift from Santa. We talked about my family going to K-Mart after dinner on warm summer nights, when the smell of chicken shit wafted through the valley . . . and how my brother and I would peruse the music section. I told them how long I saved up to buy my first cassette. Eddie Rabbit.
I think I paid $7.99 for that cassette . . . oh, how times have changed. We talked about that white hard packaging that cassettes used to come in . . . . and how many injuries happened whilst making attempts to remove it . . .
Yes, it was quite a walk down memory lane today. Holy cow, I feel ancient.
And, as promised, my new playlist:
Clocks . . . Coldplay
Out of Goodbyes . . . Maroon 5
Heartbreak Warfare . . . John Mayer
Must Get Out . . Maroon 5
How To Save a Life . . . The Fray
Chasing Cars . . . Snow Patrol
Slow Dancing in a Burning Room . . . John Mayer
Hey, Soul Sister . . . Train
Bad Day . . . Daniel Powter
Stop and Stare . . . One Republic
Breathe In Breathe Out . . . Mat Kearney
Unwell . . . Matchbox Twenty
Breakeven . . . The Script
I'm Yours . . Jason Mraz
Better In Time . . . Leona Lewis
Bubbly . . Colbie Caillat
Say . . John Mayer
Bottle it up . . Sare Bareilles