Music: part 1

I cannot remember a time when music was not important to me. This is an interesting and, I think, poignant fact because music was not a prominent fixture in my home as a child. My parents were not musicians. They did not sing nor did they play any instruments. The radio was usually tuned into Christian talk shows that I never understood.

My dad, at the time, had a very cool company car: a Pontiac Firebird with the enormous bird logo painted on the hood. What made the car even hotter was that it was equipped with a groovy 8-track player. I remember riding in that car with my dad listening to Simon & Garfunkel, wondering who Mrs. Robinson was.

My mom, however, was not ok with me listening to that, and quickly steered my attention toward what she deemed to be the only acceptable music for my ears to hear. Thus began my cassette tape collection of Evie, The Heritage Singers, Dino, Larnelle Harris, and, of course, Sandi Patti.

Still in elementary school, I didn't have much reason to question my mom's dictation of my listening enjoyment, until two very interesting circumstances unfolded which opened my ears outside the musical box that I was placed into: my neighboor Sonja let me listen to her new Amy Grant tape entitled "Straight Ahead," and my brother won a Michael W. Smith album (yes vinyl-the one where he's dressed in argyle) from our youth group at church.

These events were not appropriate, I was told. Amy Grant was a "fence-rider," and Michael W. Smith was "too rock-n-roll for God." I remember my mom actually saying that she wanted to "break that album over [the youth pastor's] head."

For the first time I pondered the issue of whether or not I should formulate my own opinions about such matters or if I should simply believe what my mom wanted me to believe......