I have become my parents.
I can remember writhing in the back seat of the car as Mum and Dad listened to WJBR ("Just Beautiful Radio"), which played corny, schmaltzy, strings-heavy elevator-style music. Despite our pleas, there was not a chance that we kids could persuade them to switch the station to rock and roll.
"You can't even understand the words!" Mum would say (she didn't like the way Mick Jagger sucked on the microphone, either).
"You know, they don't even play their own instruments," I recall Dad saying about my then-favorites, the Monkees.
Flash-forward to 2018, when there's a new radio station on the air that plays "relaxing favorites" like oldies by Stevie Wonder, Chicago and Billy Joel. It had been years since I had heard Juice Newton's "Angel of the Morning" and Faith Hill's "I Can Feel You Breathe."
You know what? I have to confess, I like it. The lyrics don't get me angry with their violence and misogyny. The music doesn't sound like a vital part has fallen off my car. There are no mile-a-minute DJs, no stupid contests, no vapid gossip about celebrities I've never heard of, no slick speed-talking ads about "some restrictions apply," "taxes and tags extra," and "not available in all areas."
I know . . . me, who once waited in line for Ramones tickets.
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