Music and Me

            My car radio has been set on Sirius Channel 17 for the past few days as I gorge myself on Christmas music. "Music" such a small word for such a potent part of my life.  How trite, you say? Well, my iPod has over 3000 songs on it and when I play it on shuffle, I sing along with nearly all that play from Korn to Dean Martin.   If music is my life, then the word for my life is eclectic.

            When I work intellectually, I don’t usually sing to myself, because I get wrapped up in the lyrics and the beat of what’s playing; however, when I work physically, those little white ear-buds are inserted and the iPod’s draining its battery. (I really need to investigate solar power for the device.) I mow the lawn while the Beach boys urge me to drive like “the little old lady from Pasadena.” I dust and mop to Carmen’s “Flower Song” and vacuum while “singing” “The Duck” version of Sousa’s “Washington Post March.”

            Professionally, music is the basis of my favorite research assignment for my students. A decade ago I asked myself what assignment I could create that would require research but could not be copied from the Internet  - my answer was a research paper about a student’s favorite musician. The paper was rigidly constructed with little personalization except in choice of musician. It was a phenomenally successful assignment for nearly 15 years. I have delivered three professional conference presentations on the idea as well as written a journal article about it. Plus, I was always delighted when the kids recognized that their chosen musicians use poetic devices, themes and interpretive language in their works, leading me to expound on my one of my favorite classroom motifs - Language Arts is inescapable!

            Personally, music brings me back to the “good old days.” My entire family of eight crammed in the Ford Country Squire as we rocketed over those “sick stomach bumps” on the way to Stiles Pond screaming “Johnny Willow was a soldier” at the top of our lungs. Em and Nancy engaged in so many races to the finish of  “I’ll build a bungalow” that Bill could sing the words before he could go to the bathroom by himself. Fred came off the “Long Trail” wearing the Zeke and singing “Does your chewing gum lose its flavor.” Then there was that magical night when Ellen and I stayed up ALL NIGHT listening to Dick Summer and John H. Garabedian play Beatles’ records backwards so we really could know “John is dead.”

            Music is an integral part of me despite the fact that water leaves the shower when I attempt to sing in there.