One cold night over Christmas break I snuggled with my son on the sofa, watching the most recent version of “Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.” We’d come to the part where Johnny Depp’s Willy Wonka comes out to meet his motley crew of golden ticket winners for the very first time. He smiles his vaguely creepy Willy Wonka smile, and after a dramatic pause, utters his first words to the group gathered before him:
“Good morning, starshine! The earth says hello!”
I haven’t seen the movie much, but this always makes me laugh, and I burst out laughing even harder at my son’s reponse: “That was…..weird.”
“It’s a song! It’s an old song!” And I found myself wondering how he can’t know it’s a song. Which sounds ridiculous (why would a nine-year-old boy be aware of any song from the musical Hair, right?) but we are such a music-obsessed family it genuinely took me by surprise.
It reminded me of a conversation I’d had with my mom this past week, where she teased me about being a “woman of a certain age” because I knew the lyrics to some song she referenced. (For further proof that I truly am a “woman of a certain age,” I’ve completely forgotten what that song was.)
We just like our music.
My husband and I grew up listening to our parents’ music, the true, fun “oldies” radio station (that would be defined as ’50’s music, people, not ’70’s). My mom had the classical station on at our house during the day, all day. Going to college in a town with only two stations (before the advent of internet radio and MP3’s) meant I got a good, solid education in classic rock before I met and married my husband and got a schooling in alternative music. My son has had his own iTunes playlist on our computer since he was 18 months old. (He was the one rocking out to an REM concert at nine months in utero.)
The ridiculous range of music I’ve been exposed to means that when we got our dog, Kina, I walked around for two weeks with random warped song references running through my head; from “Kina is a Punk Rocker” a la The Ramones, to “Oh, Kina Oh, Kina” instead of “Corrina, Corrina.”
All that to say….
In the bottom of our TV cabinet are three large drawers. In spite of the fact that we now do loads of online music buying, all three are FULL of CD’s. Full to the point of being difficult to open because they’re so heavy. Full to the point that I’m not sure where we’re going to put the Imagine Dragons and Mumford and Sons CD’s my husband got for Christmas. The drawers are holding, roughly, 300 CD’s. Every last one of which has been downloaded on our computer. So, why is it so hard to get rid of the CD’s?? We even have a place that would buy them from us; all we’d have to do it load them up and drive them there. (Side note: I’m reading a book right now that makes 300 CD’s seem paltry. But that’s a post for a different day.)
Yet there they sit. Put away enough that I can conveniently forget they’re there. Organized, even, so we can find what we need when we need it. But really? Do we really need to keep the CD’s, when everything is on the computer and its backup drive?
I keep coming back to a different question: do I really want to lose all that music if the computer crashes?
Once someone can convince me to let go of that question, we can start really letting go of CD’s.