Thursday, January 11, 2007
Take the Last Train to Oldsville
One of the great things about having teenagers is having moments/conversations like this:
Picking up Baby Girl from "Swinging Sounds," the swing choir. She hops in. "Last Train to Clarksville" is on the radio. She looks at me, communicating clearly but without a syllable, "You are old."
Me: I LOVE this song! I used to be so happy when I was a little girl and this would come on the radio! When I hear just the first few notes, I remember that time in my life. (Singing along)
Baby Girl: (Slight smile, proving there is a heart of gold in there somewhere) Ooh, ooh, ooooooh (background vocal accompaniment to my lead.)
We go about a quarter mile and the song is over.
Me: OK, how many Monkees were there? (Test)
Her: Six. Seven? Four?
Me: Four. Name one of them.
Her: Paul McCartney.
Me: (Eye roll fortheloveofPeterTork) Noooo, Paul McCartney was a Beatle.
Her: Oh. Well, what's so funny about that?
Me: It's like saying Britney Spears is part of . . . is part of . . . (tee hee)
Her: (Offended--defensive) It's OK, you don't have to give me an example; you always give examples.
Me: (Ignoring her lame accusation) Let me help you. "Davy Jones."
Her: Eww. That's weird.
Me: Why is that weird?
Her: That's the ugly evil pirate in Pirates of the Caribbean.
Me: No, it's a cute little Monkee.
Me: Peter Tork, Mike Nesmith and . . .
Her: (Completely blank with some disdain shining through the confusion)
Me: Micky Dolenz! Micky Dolenz!
Her: Micky D's? McDonalds?
Guess what Micky's doing today?
They met, but Paul didn't make the cut into Micky's new band.