MY SANCTUARY...

Today was a nice, cool, chill out day for me and Shiloh. That consisted of taking another trip to the Magic Johnson 24 Hour Fitness Center. Shiloh liked it a lot better her second time around. More kids her size and her age to bop around with. After some mid morning prowler drama upon our arrival home, I needed to just decompress. Nothing like a steady diet of law enforcement and insurance adjusting to make you want to enjoy one of those Calgon take me away moments. Instead of the long soak in the tub with the bubbles, scented candles, and a long stemmed glass filled to the brim, I resorted to propping myself down in front of the PC and hitting up Youtube. I love the easy access to music these days. It's not like when I was a kid and you had to manually place the record player arm on the desired cut. I always wound up scratching the vinly album while simultaneously damaging the "needle" used for transmitting the music. Isn't it crazy that I find the need to explain how that outdated contraption works? There may be young teens out there that haven't a clue as to what I am describing. Things are so much more convenient nowadays. In fact, when you ask young people to identify their favorite songs on a particular CD, they tell you the number of the selection rather than the tiltle. One of Shiloh and my favorite ways to spend time together is listening to music. She gets this glint in her eyes and starts bounding up and down. Put on Cameo's "Word Up" and it's automatic "party over here." Recently I have been in a Rock and Roll mood. That may be a misnomer because I like a variety of different sounds. From Nirvanna to Steely Dan, to one of my all timers, Joni Mitchell. Something about the hauntingly melodic, octave alternating style of hers. And the lyrics these old time song writers come up with.
Steely Dan;        
You been telling me you're a genius since you were seventeen.
All the time I've known you
I still don't know what you mean.
The weekend at the college didn't turn out like you planned
The things that pass for knowledge I can't understand.
And, of course, Joni;
Late last night I heard that screen door slam
A Big Yellow Taxi came and took away my old man.

Everytime that doggone screen door slams, something happens to put a damper on Joni's happiness. A Big Yellow Tractor does a number on the house and land. She watches the taxi take away her old man, again.
Will Shiloh appreciate any of this later in her life. I read the comment section on Youtube. It's filled with nice little tidbits that supplement my listening experience. For example, Mick Jagger, Paul and Linda McCarthy sing the background on Carly Simon's You're So Vain. There's also comments about what those old songs represent for some of the listeners. I've read countless times how a certain song reminds someone of their Father. They remember their Dad sitting in his favorite chair, enjoying his music. I've been accused of not broadening my musical taste at times. That I like to spend too much time reflecting, with some old school Jazz, or Rock or R&B as the backdrop. That's okay. Maybe my little Girlie Girl will harken back on these days and have a vague recollection of her and her old man spending our afternoons together. Music will be the cornerstone that connects her world with mine. Even after they pave paradise, and put up a parking lot.