Remembering...
Yesterday, I called my sister for a chat. I found her in the midst of a pain crisis - this happens quite a bit with my family. We all have strange aches and pains that are not easily explained by modern medicine. It is not unusual for one of the members of my family to be the topic of an article dedicated to strange things...anyway...
My sister and I were talking about things just strange and typical for us when she mentioned an old record we used to listen to when we were kids. Feeling helpless to help her pain, I decided to see if I could do something for her, so I went to the computer. Lo and behold, iTunes had the album I was looking for, so I downloaded it and made a CD (which will be going to the mailbox to her shortly).
"The album," you may be asking? Why, it's Mickey Mouse Disco, of course!
I feel the guffaws starting now, but this record made a pretty big impact on the musical lives of my brother, my sister, and me.
Imagine, if you will, three kids between the ages of 4 and 9 sitting in a small bedroom clustered around a Fisher Price record player, singing to the likes of Disco Duck, Welcome to Rio, and Happy Birthday. We wore that record out.
I love the power of music, especially music as an aid to memory.
As soon as I had downloaded the music, I was able to play it via the phone for my sister who giggled. Her pain appeared to be a bit better, or at least more tolerable, when we listened to Donald Duck squawk his disco anthem of the late 70's. We talked about the other songs on the album, singing bits and pieces of them to each other. In a quick moment, we were little, experiencing a shared memory. I hope my brother will like his CD as much as I know that my sister will!
It is amazing, isn't it, that a series of sounds and silence can elicit strong responses in our brains, changing our emotions, sparking the same memories, and distracting our responses from the pain of life?
From now on, when things are a bit too strange to handle, I think I will do some disco moves to the sounds of Mickey and the gang. I hope my siblings will do the same, remembering the times we gathered in my brother's room to listen to our music.
My sister and I were talking about things just strange and typical for us when she mentioned an old record we used to listen to when we were kids. Feeling helpless to help her pain, I decided to see if I could do something for her, so I went to the computer. Lo and behold, iTunes had the album I was looking for, so I downloaded it and made a CD (which will be going to the mailbox to her shortly).
"The album," you may be asking? Why, it's Mickey Mouse Disco, of course!
I feel the guffaws starting now, but this record made a pretty big impact on the musical lives of my brother, my sister, and me.
Imagine, if you will, three kids between the ages of 4 and 9 sitting in a small bedroom clustered around a Fisher Price record player, singing to the likes of Disco Duck, Welcome to Rio, and Happy Birthday. We wore that record out.
I love the power of music, especially music as an aid to memory.
As soon as I had downloaded the music, I was able to play it via the phone for my sister who giggled. Her pain appeared to be a bit better, or at least more tolerable, when we listened to Donald Duck squawk his disco anthem of the late 70's. We talked about the other songs on the album, singing bits and pieces of them to each other. In a quick moment, we were little, experiencing a shared memory. I hope my brother will like his CD as much as I know that my sister will!
It is amazing, isn't it, that a series of sounds and silence can elicit strong responses in our brains, changing our emotions, sparking the same memories, and distracting our responses from the pain of life?
From now on, when things are a bit too strange to handle, I think I will do some disco moves to the sounds of Mickey and the gang. I hope my siblings will do the same, remembering the times we gathered in my brother's room to listen to our music.
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