We sing in the car
By Lucky Tomaszek
We’re driving out to a rock climbing place for my daughter Lena’s 11th birthday. It’s July but it’s cool enough to have the windows down to the let breeze in. Lena says, “Will you play that one song, Mom?” I smile at her in the rear view mirror and scan through to track four. “Louder!” she calls from the back seat. I turn it up and look at her again, eyebrows up in question. “Louder!” She laughs as I crank it and then she’s singing along at the top of her lungs. Her friends bob their heads and sing the few words they know. As the song ends, she calls out, “Again? Please!” It’s her birthday, so I indulge her and start the song over, singing along with the stereo and my daughter while her friends try to keep up. As we pull into a parking space I turn the stereo down. Lena says to her friends, “You know how some families play softball or go for long bike rides? It’s like that. We sing in the car. It’s what our family does.”
I have always loved music, and when my kids were born I swore I was going to do my best to share that love with them. To be clear, I’m not musically talented, not in any way. I can’t sing or play any instruments. And I can’t dance. Don’t ask me! But I have a great appreciation for the musical talents of others and never tire of hearing new music. I have worked hard to raise children who are musically open-minded, as well.
When Lena was a year old, her favorite CD was Peter Gabriel’s Shaking the Tree. She would bring me the disc over and over and shake her wee-tiny groove thing to “Solsbury Hill.” Not long before her second birthday, she fell in love with the song “Perhaps, Perhaps, Perhaps” by Cake. Being an incredibly articulate toddler, she could actually sing most of the words, though she didn’t really know what they meant. Emma joined our family around the time Lena turned three, while I was riding a wave of chick music: Indigo Girls, Tracy Chapman, Jewel, Sarah McLachlan. As I danced through the house, Emma nodded along in her sling, strapped to my chest and laughing with me as Lena followed banging on empty Tupperware containers. Even at eight years-old, Emma’s favorite song is still Edie Brickell’s “Black and Blue.”
When Jeffrey was born six years ago, I was on a kick of revisiting all of my high school favorites. Tom Petty played throughout our home, punctuated by Deee-Lite’s World Clique. Concrete Blonde’s first album, U2’s Rattle and Hum, Replacement’s Hootenany – these and so many more were passed down from me to the three kids, giving them a healthy foundation from which to start to form their own musical opinions.
Musical evolution
I will be the first to admit that it was hard for me when Lena, at age nine, started to tune into pop radio when she had control of the stereo. I tried to convince her to put on a CD, a cassette tape, anything but Brittney Spears or Kelly Clarkson, but she was starting the process of making her own musical choices and I had to let it go. Fortunately, the pop music phase was short-lived and now her mp3 player is full of Ani Difranco, The Bare Naked Ladies, and Girlyman. Sometimes before bed, we curl up on the couch and share her headphones while we read.
We take our music everywhere, singing and even (sometimes) dancing through the grocery store, in the elevator and most certainly in the car. People in other vehicles often laugh to see us clapping and moving as we drive down the street. And while I know I shouldn’t be proud of the fact that my six-year-old son knows all the words to “Baby Got Back,” I just can’t help myself. VS
