So, after our Thanksgiving feast, my Mom invited her grandchildren to play cards (Skip-Bo, specifically). We cleared the table, poured the glasses, and dealt the cards. Just a few hands in, I asked if folks would like some music. In honour of my Mother, we decided on "Golden Oldies". I signed in to Pandora. Elvis, Dion, The Temptations, The Shirelles, amongst so many others, filled the room with memorable music. My Mom was just a lip-syncin' away. My kids got a kick of my own attempts at singing along.
I remarked to my kids that most of the music they were hearing was upwards of 60 to 70 years old.
Of course, I had to endure a few choice reminders from my kids that I am almost as old as that myself (though not quite). Nevertheless, I know the music. My Mom and Dad used crack out the 45 collection and play away the occasional Saturday afternoon. I can distinctly remember late nights of dialing in the radio to the station out of Oklahoma City, Oklahoma, and listening to their oldies playlists hissing in and out of reception. I also recall staring at the t.v. through plenty of those after hours album compilations promoting the "Golden Oldies" of the 50s and 60s.
Later, Thanksgiving Night, with the songs still ringing in my head, something rather interesting--and kind of depressing--occurred to me: the very same pieces of music were already known as the "Golden Oldies" when I was a kid. But most of the music was a mere 30 years old, if even that.
So, what does it mean, therefore, that the music which I most enjoy, and to which I still regularly listen, is older now than the "Golden Oldies" were when they became known as the "Oldies"?
Indeed, my favourite music stems from the mid-80s. (That's four decades ago!) What many call the "Golden Age" of heavy metal.
"Golden"?
I suppose I'm getting to be an "Oldie" myself--whether "Golden" or not.
Doesn't matter. I, for one, intend to keep playing the music that means the most to me, and playing it proudly for my children, just like my parents did for me.
O, how the song of life keeps spinning and spinning around on the record player of existence.
