Did you know that I love to sing? There is something quite insignificant and also alarmingly vulnerable about using your own voice as an instrument. Music feels like magic to me, and the people who get to create it never cease to amaze me.
We grew up singing our brains out. The living room at the Book house on Bradford Rd and the navy blue Ford van with room for 10 have witnessed more 90s country dance parties, 80s love ballads, and 70s classic rock jams than your favorite local joint. My mom would literally stop the car if you refused to join in our spotty renditions of Neil Diamond’s Cracklin’ Rosie or Bonnie Tyler’s Total Eclipse of the Heart. I remember the fist time dad let us listen to the ‘bad stations’ on the radio on the way to one of my brother Josh’s baseball tournaments in Jasper, IN. All of a sudden we were rolling down I64 bumping to Eminem Lose Yourself and I swear he knew more of the words than we did.
Another cult classic in the Book house was surprisingly Lou Bega’s Mambo No. 5. I can still recite each word and have lovingly passed it down to my youngest brother Sam. Maybe the most impressive and inventive experiment to come out of these youthful jam sessions was a dance move called the “Collin Dance.” Do yourself a favor crank Baby Likes to Rock it by The Tractors. Proceed to find a gallop-ish shuffle in your step and hoist your right arm fist in tow. Gallop and pump your fist in the air shuffling about belting the “tractor song.” It feels best when performed in your living room in endless circles while avoiding the furniture.
How did I get so far from this youthful expression? When did I learn to put limitations on it? And why do I find it so embarrassing now to be overheard?
The walls of my own tiny Ford van are now filled with song thanks to this wide open road and plenty of room to shout big country ballads into the sea. Can you hear it? “In my car, I’ll be the driver. In my car, I'm in control. In my car, I come alive and In my car, I am the driver” Thanks for all the ridiculous pop country anthems Shania. For a chance at being in the backseat of my mom’s van, windows down, sun on my face, without a care in the world.
Seems like this wave is coming back into my life. Not entirely sure what to do with this gift, but I’m finding a whole lot of joy here. Who knows maybe someday soon I’ll shed enough layers to share.
