I have always loved music and dance. I used to tell people that it was woven throughout my soul while tapping my toes and aching to get up and moving. Now I just close my eyes and let the melody fill me up.
When I was a kid my sister had an amazing record collection. Her tastes were a little eclectic so we were exposed to quite a balanced variety.
My mom had a pretty good 8-track collection that she played on the same stereo. We all groaned when she would assert the equal-time rule between what we considered to be our music and her music.
She liked all that old stuff; the instrumental, some Jim Nabors, you get the idea. We called it “elevator music” and mocked it every chance we could get away with it.
But when it was our turn, that record player was turned up and we danced and danced and danced around the living room, into the kitchen, up and down the stairs, and anywhere else that we could still hear the beat. Continue reading What’s old is new; what’s new is old