Flashback Friday

So I had this idea.

And I have been thinking about this for a while now. And because today was a pretty great day (the L's and I spent the day at the zoo and we had a super fab time) I thought tonight was the perfect night to start this...

Each and every Friday I am going to randomly pick a song off of my iPod and do the why's, who's, how's and whatev's. Music has always been a huge part of my life (Hi, my name is Brenda and I am a card carrying band geek and damn proud of it) and since this blog was really started for my kids as a little peek into who their mom really is, music should be a big part of this blog. I owe a big thanks to the coolest chick that I have never met, Rock and Roll Mama, for just randomly sending me a nice little email and giving me that little boost of confidence. I have just recently discovered her blog but I seriously (have you figured out how this blog was titled yet?) think she is my "sista from another mista." Even though she is all like a real writer and stuff. And I am all like just hacking my way through this.

I should preface this by saying that I have a very eclectic musical library. Don't be surprised at what's on there. Hair bands to Swing. Techno to Bluegrass. Indie to Euro Pop. It's all on there.

So today's pick...

Rock Me Amadeus by Falco

It's 1986. Summer of 1986. I'm 11 and a half. Because everyone who is 11 wants to be older and saying your 11 and a half is way better than only being 11. I have this bratty 9 year old sister. My mom makes me do everything with her. She tags along on all of our bike rides, hikes past the boyscout camp we lived next to, gossip sessions and secret picnic lunches. My mom really just sends her as a spy because she (read: Mom) thinks I am troubled and wants to make sure I am okay. I am not troubled, I am just not like every other kid and not like the kid my mom wants me to be. Anyway. The girls and I had a secret place in the woods next to the boyscout camp called "Bubble Land." We were 11. That's what 11 year old girls name their secret place. Get over it.

Bubble Land came to be the place where I could escape all the crap going on at home. You know, a place to escape all of the 11 year old drama. That Christmas before I was given a walkman and a cassette tape of Thriller from my Uncle Bob. Gave Thriller to my bratty sister so she would leave me alone. It worked. For a little while. That walkman (which I totally still have) became my therapy. It became my window to this big world. As big of a world as an 11 and a half year old Minnesota girl can be exposed to.

Every afternoon that summer I would take that walkman (making sure I had fresh batteries) and a coke and sneak away from my sister, meet up with my friends and end up in Bubble Land listening to KQRS-FM, a station that my older uncles listened to. Scandalous for an 11 year old. And that's when this Minnesota bred, blond haired, green eyed, chubby, naive to the ways of the world, suburban girl heard Rock Me Amadeus by Falco. It was electronic, head bopping, dark and so refreshing all at the same time. I was cool and no one else my age had to know it. I was cool and I knew it.

Fast forward...

It's Spring Break 1994. I am a freshmen in college. This blonde haired, green eyed, naive, still a bit chubby but totally growing into her curves, Minnesota girl is now a Geology majoring, earthy-crunchy, Birkenstock wearing, ratty old college sweatshirt tied around her waist, rock girl. Literally.

My boyfriend (you know the one. The guy who your dad thinks is a total smart ass. The one who is trying to mack on his daughter. The one who is nothing like your dad and he will never understand. You know the one. The one you marry 6 years later.) and I are packing up Dad's truck for our Spring Break trip to Brown County Indiana for the annual Geo Club - Geode Hunt. No beach blanket bingo for this girl. We are meeting our fellow Geo Clubbers (read: heavy beer drinkers) at the park and ride for the start of our 8 hour road trip. We pull into the parking lot, blasting "Rock Me Amadeus" (get it, ROCK me Amadeus) ready for the time of our lives. Ready to be independent, ready to be adventurous, ready not to be arrested, ready to be adults. Sort of.

Fast Forward...

It's March 2005. My son has just taken his first breath a few hours before. I stare into his eyes, not quite knowing who he is or why they are going to let me take him home tomorrow. On the radio that sunny afternoon in the hospital room I hear "Rock Me Amadeus." I smile at my son, knowing that if he came from that blonde haired, green eyed, Minnesota girl, he'll be fine.

So, enjoy a little Falco courtesty of YouTube. Happy Friday!