It was the turn of the century – Y2K and all that jazz. Kendall threw a “Pop Party.” This so-called pop party had only one price for admission – bring pop-something. Popcorn. Popsicles. Pop Rocks. You name it.
We quite literally partied like it was 1999 – for only a few more, short minutes. Everybody who is anybody was going to be there and my best friend had explained to me this kissing tradition I had never heard of before.
I was about to turn 16 years old, which meant by law (almost literally around here) I was going to be allowed to date. The idea of finding that somebody I would spend the rest of my life with during a New Year’s kiss? Best. Idea. Ever. #SoSixteen
🎵 I’m singing too high tonight, I’m gonna lose my voice / I heard her on the radio, don’t want to sing along, but I’ve got no choice! 🎵
At first I was annoyed, “Mom!” I groaned. “Stooooop!” Typical teenager.
Her entire face lit up when she laughed, turning from pink to red with a glow that seemed to prove she was somehow magical – like Mrs. Santa Claus – unable to hide the twinkle in her eye when she was truly happy. She was just a bit mad herself, so it was impossible to stay mad at her as she started to swerve the car back and forth to the beat.
We were listening to a mixtape made by I don’t know who. The creator doesn’t matter as much as this single moment held in time.
Suddenly my life had energy. It had purpose. I felt motivated to greet each day, and for the first time, I had an idea of what it was I wanted to do with my life. I was in love with music!
Having grown up as a damn near professional touring, Classical concert pianist, it was unbeknownst to me that radio stations existed past the lower 80-FM channels. For most of my life, the radio remained on Classical NPR, and the only albums floating around the glove compartment were Bob Dylan inspired folk artists like, Peter, Paul, and Mary.