I was 9 years old and I had no idea it could do such a thing. Because at 9 years old, nothing had ever blown my hair back before or set my gut on fire with a scary, exciting rush. I was only 9 after all. But that’s exactly what happened on a dusty road in Mogadishu in front of my friend’s house.
I’m talking about music. All I knew about it up until that moment was Disco Mickey Mouse. And the Annie movie soundtrack. And some really good Frank Sinatra and jazz albums of my parents. All good. None of it, however, quite worthy of blowing my hair back. None of it quite made me want to jump around and scream and yell and sing until I was hoarse and ignited to the core the way this did. You know that kind of music when it hits you. And I’m afraid it puts daddy’s Frank Sinatra to shame.
So back to the story. We were hanging out in front of my friend’s house. It was a weekend I think because we had nowhere to be and lots of time to kill. There was a large community of Americans in Mogadishu in the very early 80s, and my family was part of it while my father was posted there. And so while we were in one of the most desolate and desperate parts of Africa, we were just kids making do and enjoying our weekend, no different from anywhere in the USA. Because there we were. In our dark blue Jordache jeans with skinny red belts, ringer t-shirts, wearing Lip Smacker lip gloss stolen off some sister’s dresser.
It was hot out and dust whipped our stringy hair around. We sad on old concrete blocks under a thorny Acacia tree. The Somali sun never retreated so we had. Goats ambled by, kicking up more red dust. There was nothing to do.
And then a car drove up. My friend’s older sister ran out of the house. She was only an 8th grader but she knew the really big kids who drove cars. We watched her bend in to say hi. A moment passed and doors opened up, they all stepped out. And then it happened. Music thundered from an old tape deck somewhere within.
We stared.
Do you know what song it was? The song that ripped into my heart and made me want to rock my head and smile and move and laugh? Cliche or not, it was Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock and Roll.”
I was mind blown.
We froze where we were and listened. As soon as it was done, the song was rewound and played again. And again. Eventually we shuffled quietly over to the back of the car and sat up against its bumper, swaying, nodding our heads, mumbling the words when we knew them. The big kids never noticed or never cared. But we hung there. The whole afternoon. Listening to “I Love Rock n Roll” and “Crimson and Clover”. Over and over.
Joan Jett became a constant by the community pool and at evening social get togethers and at sleep overs and before community movie screenings. Joan Jett’s guitar riffs transplanted a small piece of the U.S. right into an extraordinarily foreign world. She brought some normal, on a loop, over and over.
So of course Joan Jett became my first rock and roll idol. Black leathers, black eyeliner, black shag haircut, bad ass guitar, and a chick-swagger like nothing I had ever seen before. She established in my soul what rock and roll should be, there amongst the Acacia trees and passing goats.
When I arrived home a year later, I snapped on MTV and discovered Cyndi Lauper, Annie Lenox, Toni Basil, Chrissy Hines, Ann and Nancy Wilson… and I got it. I knew it. I wasn’t afraid of it. I was moved and rocked and rolled by all of it. Without any reservation. How could I be, after Joan Jett popped my rock n roll cherry only a year before?
I watched “The Runaways” the other night. It was pretty good and about what I expected. The live show of “Cherrybomb” was sick. Awesome job. And my Joan Jett girl crush certainly never wavered. The 9 year old in Lip Smacker lip gloss lost inside came rushing back and rocked and got light-headed and wanted to scream, kind of.
“Saw him dancing there by the record machine…. knew he must have been about 17.”
Sure. I could blame my short blogging absence on all of the family I have been hosting over this past week. That’s right. I could make them the scape goat. (And yeah, it IS kind of their fault, which I mean in the nicest way, because family is faaar more important than our blogs anyway… right?) But this absence really isn’t their fault. No. It was something else.
I blame that fancy bit of recently hip social media called Twitter.
Now it’s not as if I have been exactly tweeting like a crazy woman all this time either. Like I said, family has been in town. I haven’t had all that much “one on one” snuggle time with my PC really. But when I DID have time, what did I do? I reduced what could have been perfectly entertaining and interesting posts of about two or three paragraphs… into 140 characters.
I mean, come on now. I’d like to fancy myself a writer. And blogging is the BEST thing ever for a writer. No one edits you, you just rock it, write it out, say what you want. Such freedom. It is NOT a task. It is never a chore. Blogging is something I relish. So writing a funny two or three paragraph post about something quirky that happened that day is HARDLY work.
And yet, I chose to spend what little time I had to tweet it instead. Bad. So bad. I mean, it even takes some thinking and intellectual wrangling to get that true intention captured in 140 characters. Its like a challenge. Lets see how I can mush an entire afternoon into one sentence.
Ugh. The writer in me is simply disgusted.
Tweeting is NOT blogging.
And choosing to tweet rather than blog when I had the time simply dimmed the lights around here for far too long. (I know its only been about a week but to ME, that’s a blogger’s eternity.)
I can’t help but think of that song “Video Killed the Radio Star.”
NO I am NOT a blogging star but still, just like the twitter warning, something IS technically wrong here. Twitter has the potential to do some real blogger damage. And I had been warned about the perils of twitter before, but now I get it.
We can’t let Twitter rip the blogging carpet out from under us.
We can’t let perfectly good posts with wonderfully descriptive sentences become chopped, edited and stunted into grammatically incorrect blurbs quickly forgotten and forever lost in some mindless twitter graveyard.
We can’t stop blogging for the quick, however empty, satisfaction of a fast tweet and a couple “@” replies.
We’re better than that, right?
Ok, ok. I know I am really just mad at myself for ignoring my blog. I have missed my time here. I really heart Morningside Mom and I am taking it out on twitter. And its hardly like I WON’T be tweeting now. (Snort, cha right.)
But if I have some time on my hands and a funny story to share, I need to prioritize my blog over twitter. And that goes for reading too. If I have some time on my hands to read, I need to prioritize my google reader over catching up on tweets. Content over 140 characters. Structure, description, real words, beginnings, middles and ends over an answer to the question “What are you doing right now?”
So twitter. I get you. I do. I kind of love you sometimes too. But my aim is to be a fabulous blogger and writer – not a totally popular, excessively followed micro-blogger. So while I will love you and enjoy you for what you are, I can’t let you kill blogging for me – or for any of us. I won’t let you. Even all those videos on MTV got old eventually. But the music never did.
In my mind and in my car
we can’t rewind, we’ve gone too far.
Pictures came and broke your heart
put the blame on VTR.
Video killed the radio star.
(By the way, this song is SO much better than its video. What the hell is that about? Was it very intentional irony? Really bad drugs? A limited budget? Or did the Buggles actually think their video was so damn cool and on point? Makes me wonder how many of us think our tweets are just as good as our blog posts. Something to consider. Check it out…)
In case you hadn’t noticed, I am very excited about the upcoming inauguration of President-Elect Obama. And as a mom, I think it is only fair that I share the excitement of this historical event with my children too. I also think this is the perfect opportunity to teach our children about the United States presidency and the purpose of an inauguration. So, after doing some research, I have found all sorts of fun ways to engage our children in this historical event.
Where to begin? First, and depending on their age, you might want to explain to your children what the United States President is actually responsible for. Ben’s Guide will give your kids a simple but fairly thorough explanation.You may also want to show your children our nation’s past 43 presidents. White House.gov provides a list of past presidents along with interesting facts about each. And what better way to remember our presidents than to learn a rap about all 44 of them? The song and lyrics can be found here.
The inauguration is as much a celebration as it is a learning experience for our children. Parents should think about explaining what this inauguration is for and what it means for so many people. Here are some excellent books which will teach children further about the presidency and the inauguration process:
Our President-Elect represents a great deal to our country. His principles, his history as a politician and recent election can teach our kids many important lessons. Princemensah at Ehow wrote a wonderful article about the inspiring lessons children should learn from Barack Obama. One suggested lesson reads:
“Point out the lesson of working with different people.
The President-Elect has a history of working with people with differing views. From Harvard to the Hill, he has established faith and friendship with people who do not share his views. This attitude is critical to a nation sharply divided over war and worries over the economy. Your children need to know about the value of being able to gain the respect of your enemies.”
While teaching our children about the inauguration is important, there are plenty of fun, interactive ways to include them in all the celebrating too. Active learning with lots of cutting and pasting always gets the brain moving. As I mentioned in a post before, Kaboose.com has some excellent craft ideas for children. More crafts can also be found at Amazing Moms.com.
Does your child dream of becoming President of the United States someday? Scholastic.com has a fun game for older children where they can decide what they would do if they were president.
If you have an inauguration whiz on your hands, perhaps the whole family can sit down and play this inauguration quiz found at pbs.org
Or do you have a musician in the house? Have them try playing “Hail to the Chief”. The sheet music can be found here if you click on the “score” icon at the top left of the page.
Are you looking for coloring pages? So that your young ones can stay busy coloring up a storm on Tuesday, we’ve got plenty of links to share:
While the rest of your household readies for the inauguration, you may be wondering how you can engage your tween or high schooler further. Nickelodeon, The Disney Channel and MTV will all be hosting events with many favorite performers like the Jonas Brothers and Miley Cyrus.
That being said, there will be so much to do in the DC area for families. Be sure to check out Go City Kids for all of the city wide activities. And did you know that there will be, in fact, a Children’s Inaugural Ball?
And for those families like mine who are scrambling to figure out how to celebrate inauguration day hundreds of miles away from Washington DC, be sure to check locally for events and activities for children on the day of the inauguration. I know that Borders will hosting inaugural events in some cities, so it’s worth doing further research online.
So strike up Hail to the chief, hang your coloring pages proudly, maybe do a little presidential rap, and enjoy celebrating the inauguration with your entire family this coming Tuesday, January 20th.
Last night, snuggled into bed, I watched part of MTV’s “The Hills”finale. What? So it’s the most vapid, horrifyingly shallow, “un”reality show ever. Of course, I am well aware that I am almost 35 and this admission may have pushed me a couple notches lower on the “grounded, has a clue, feminist” scale. But, whatever, I’m coming out of my MTV closet. I was watching it. And while hurling insults at that horrid human, Spencer, I saw a commercial for a new “reality” show. My Super Sweet Sixteen – EXILED.
Oh, mother of pearl. My prayers have been answered.
I may have mentioned before my visceral distaste for the show My Super Sweet Sixteen.It stands for everything that is wrong with parenting today. The expectations it sets for tweens everywhere absolutely fill me with horror. For real. It’s televised p*rn for the self centered, materialistic teenaged masses. Hell yeah, I’m getting a Escalade for my birthday. Hell yeah, I’ll fly to Paris to buy four dresses for one party. Hell yeah!! And you suck if you don’t!
Ugh, I am just not sure what to say. Except… gag me with a spoon. I’m 35, ok? As I often do while watching MTV, I am connecting with the permed out 80s teenager still living inside of me.
So anyway, MTV has now decided to take the stars of these shows (I can hardly stomach the fact that there have been 61 episodes to date of this trash) and plop them in the middle of a third world country. And as I watched this trailer, I found myself sitting up in bed, madly snickering and clapping with glee. Oooooh, they’re gonna GET theirs now…
But I have to add in a sidebar here. These parents need some exiling themselves. How could they have EVER gone along with “My Super Sweet Sixteen” in the first place? What part of showering their teen aged children with money, cars, and live performers - and then taping it all for a national television show – was ever a good idea? While their kids are getting schooled in Peru, India and Kenya, I hope someone, anyone (Super Nanny, where are you?) is setting them straight while shredding every credit card in sight.
And I also feel for the families who are hosting these girls. UGH. I suppose our status as the “Ugly Americans” can’t get much worse these days (thanks, Dubya) but I know I will cringe seeing these families react to their horrid, self serving behavior. Please, wonderful people of our earth, ALL AMERICANS DON’T SUCK THIS BAD!
But here is the irony. Back in 1987, I went through my own little teenaged exile. I wasn’t 16, I was 14. And it wasn’t Kenya, it was Swaziland. I may have had my reasons back then, but there can be no denying it - I was a very unreasonable 14 year old. And in the summer of ’87, kicking, “UH-MUH-GAWD”ing and screaming, my parents dropped me in Africa. So there. And was I schooled? Oh, you bet.
So why do I take such glee watching these privileged brats get such a drastic slap in the face? Is it my own issues of wanting to see other kids go through what I did? No, I don’t think so. Or is it the fact that at 35, I am painfully aware of how much excess we American have – and EXPECT to have? Do I shudder at how little we Americans understand about humanity on a global scale? Do I feel heaps of shame when my fellow Americans don’t even WANT to learn more about cultures other than their own? HELL YEAH. And guess what sweet sixteeners… you suck if you don’t.
My brother and myself. Still new to Africa. Getting a clue.
Sure. I could blame my short blogging absence on all of the family I have been hosting over this past week. That’s right. I could make them the scape goat. (And yeah, it IS kind of their fault, which I mean in the nicest way, because family is faaar more important than our blogs anyway… right?) But this absence really isn’t their fault. No. It was something else.
Stumble It!
For Local Blog
