Heartless son
A few weeks ago, my son questioned me on a choice of music. We were in the car. The radio was on. I admit, I will sometimes listen to old sappy songs on the radio, mostly for the nostalgic effect. I even have an “oldies” station preset on one of my radio buttons. Should a Frankie Valli or Beach Boys song come on, and if I am in the mood, I will turn it up loud and sing along in a strained falsetto voice. It sounds pretty good to my ears, but I am realistic enough to know that other people would rather volunteer for poke in the eye research at the National Institutes of Health than listen to me sing. So I sing alone. In fact, outside of my immediate family, I rarely have the radio on at all if someone else is in the car with me.
Having a young child in the car is different, though. For the first nine years of his life, driving around with my son, Conor, in the back seat of the car has not been a deterrent to my fondness for listening to syrupy music on the radio or even singing. Up to now, my son has rarely uttered a word about the music I play, except maybe to enquire about the artist. "Is that the Beatles?" he'll ask. Everything old to him is the Beatles. Well, what can you say? It's not a bad baseline.
So when Conor finally spoke up about a song playing on the radio, it took me completely by surprise. Here is what he said. "Dad, that's Heart. Why are you listening to...Heart?" There was disdain in his voice. A ten year old boy’s distain can be quite piercing. The song was Heart's "These Dreams." I had no answer to his question other than: "I kind of like this song, Conor. It reminds me of when I was in college." He went back to reading his comic book and that was the end of it. No further judgment. He seems willing, at least for now, to give me the benefit of doubt, musically speaking. Although, surely I am on borrowed time. His opinions are formulating fast and furious. Just the other day, we were driving to a restaurant for dinner when a teenager pulled alongside blasting some rap music with that all-too-familiar bone-rattling bass. "Why do they do that?" Conor asked. "Do they think that makes them cool? Because it does nothing for their street cred."
Street cred? I didn't even ask.
On the very same driving trek that Conor commented on the song "These Dreams," another Heart song came on the radio. It was just as we were pulling into the garage. I had switched radio stations. This time it was the song "Barracuda." I said, "Listen to this, Conor. This is a Heart song, too. They could really rock, you know. Listen to this guitar work here: DaDaDum DaDaDum DaDaDum Barracuda." Alas, I wasn't able to convince him on the rock and roll merits of Heart. He popped his door open as soon as the car was stopped and jumped out, leaving his old man to play air guitar by himself in the garage of their suburban colonial home. In retrospect, my street cred took a beating on that day.
6:11:22 PM  Stories
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