Music to Grow By

I recently finished reading Rob Sheffield’s book, “Talking to Girls About Duran Duran: One Young Man’s Quest for True Love and a Cooler Haircut.” I ask you, what woman (who came of age in the 80’s) could resist picking up a book with such a profound title? Probably thousands if my more cynical counterparts are to be believed, but we won’t even discuss what large rock they were trapped under during such a totally awesome time in music history. Let’s face it, it is the only reasonable explanation for not sitting up straighter at the mere mention of DD. It is a clever book and I am once again profoundly grateful for Rob’s amazing ability to catapult me back to moments in my life especially memorable because of the music playing in the background. His previous book entitled, “Love Is a Mix Tape: Life and Loss, One Song at a Time” was also an enjoyable read about how we use music (specifically put together on a mix tape) to express ourselves and what we are feeling to the people we care about the most. I really like the way the book is laid out, each chapter is given an artist or group name, song title and a year from which to bear reference. These were especially helpful in sparking the "where was I, what was I doing" questions foremost on my mind as soon as I read the words. We've all had that, "oh, I was at (insert location) with (insert person) and we were (insert appropriate action here)" moments when we hear a song on the radio and it was the same for me when I read them on the pages of Rob's book. This is one man's insight and observations of musical memories from his childhood and he treats the fragility of such recollection quite well. Rob’s reflections on his past in relation to music gave rise to my own thoughts and impressions of the role it played in my life.

It is impossible for me to remember a time when music was not a huge part of my life. It has always been there for me, in good times, bad times and more commonly saturated in all moments in between. I had a happy childhood. It was one full of fond memories made entirely possible because of the connection and interactions I had with my family and most notably with my siblings, all of it punctuated by music. Ours was not a musically talented family, but what we lacked in skill and expertise we made up for in taste (relatively speaking) and the amount of music consumed in a decidedly small space of time.

My siblings and I are the youngest in our generation of the family. Big Bro, Missy and I were always with our older cousins who lived next door. When we were in elementary school, they were in the thick of their teen years and two of them had already moved out of state for college. When Baby Sister came along eight years behind me, she fit right into the fold between two generations and naturally grew up with their children. Nevertheless, our collective and individual memories with her were achieved because of music.

I remember roller skating with Missy around the car port next door, our black lace-up skates with steel wheels and no stopper occasionally catching in a crevice of the cement. My body would fly through the air, I would land on my belly with the wind knocked out of me, but in the next minute I would be up and skating again. Big Bro was on his skateboard and the cousins were playing with the dogs, shooting hoops or standing by the gate talking to a neighborhood friend or two. If it was a week before Halloween, “Monster Mash” drifted out of the stereo’s speakers from it’s corner in the house near the living room’s picture glass window. “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” by the Jackson 5 meant Christmas was just around the corner. If the entire soundtrack album for “Grease” played twice while we were skating out there, it meant that it was August and we were all anxious to get back to school. No matter what, every song had a different effect on us. Big Bro would contort his face and make Frankensteinian movements toward us during “Monster Mash”. Missy would sing along with Michael Jackson with an innocence only she was capable of. I would belt out “Hopelessly Devoted” in what I thought was my best Olivia Newton John voice while gracefully floating in a circle...until my wheels would hit a crevice and I would go flying into oblivion, peals of laughter rising up around me.

During the summer months, a journey to the North Shore for world famous shave ice was usually on the agenda. We’d drive down to Haleiwa with the cousins and a song with what has to be the most familiar lyrics ever would start playing on the radio. At the time, I didn’t really know what the song was about nor did I care about it’s meaning, but the refrain was so catchy, it’s really the only part of the song we all knew and sang out loud on those memorable car rides. “If you like Pina Coladas and getting caught in the rain...” We always called it the Pina Colada song only to discover later that it was titled, “Escape” by Rupert Holmes. I hadn’t learned yet what a Pina Colada was or how blitzed 2 or 10 of them could make you feel if consumed in quick succession, but it was certainly a fun pair of words to sing out loud. Road trip music works its magic in this way.

For the first few years of Baby Sister’s life, I thought she was going to grow up and be the entertainer extraordinaire of our family. She loved prancing around in her multi-colored Dove shorts (one for every day of the week) holding a pink, Goody hair comb in her hand and singing “Gloria” by Laura Branigan into it with unmitigated gusto. Sure, she was lip syncing, but we had high hopes for her. Eventually she fell into the same musically talented category her older siblings arrived at one by one...the one where you have no talent in that particular area. Fortunately, we all found our talents on much less intimidating turf, but Baby Sister can chant in the ancient Hawaiian way and it is one of the most remarkable things in the world to behold.

Growing up in Hawai’i meant being surrounded by Hawaiian music. My parents still have the well-preserved collection of Hawaiian music albums we grew up on, some of it not readily available on CD or on iTunes. Every once in a while, I will sit in the room of our house where our modern day record player is located and reminisce about my “small kid days” as the turntable spins. I sing along with Hawaiian music royalty like Hui ‘Ohana, Marlene Sai, and the ‘Ohana Serenaders. I remember how I used to proudly sing, “Sweet Weuweu” by the Sons of Hawai’i, thinking that everyone would be impressed by my correct pronunciation of the Hawaiian words. It wasn’t long before I was gently informed by my mother that it was a song about pakalolo, or as it is more commonly known, marijuana. I love the way Leinaala Haili sang “Akaka Falls” and to this day, Melveen Leed’s “Kanaka Wai Wai” renders me absolutely speechless. Rarely does a song sung by Israel Kamakawiwo’ole do anything less than pull on every one of my heartstrings and Rhoda Kekona’s “My Darling Love” reminds me why I believe in love in the first place. One of my favorite Tina Kaapana songs was “Kanaka Leo Nui” mostly because it showcased the full bloom of her beautiful voice which lifted the melody on it’s higher notes, filled in the pukas (or empty spaces) with the slightly lower timbre of her alto and held it all together to carry it through with her tenor vocalization.

Music, much like books and reading, opened many doors for me and it is especially powerful in sparking the memories I hold dear. I continue to grow with every new song I am introduced to and now, I have music memories with my daughter. Mostly it’s because we sing the wrong lyrics together a majority of the time, but it is our special musical connection and entertaining material for a future blog post.