Autobiography
Sara Starkey spent most of her young life in the 90’s; a time when music was revolutionized with girl power and pop music reigned. Her father, a man unable to grasp the importance of being “with it” as Sara puts it, controlled the most important aspect of her life at the time; the car radio.
When my sister and I were young, our father controlled the car radio. He said that he did it because his father used to do the same to him, but I felt like he was trying to ruin my life. While my friends were listening to the new Spice Girls or Backstreet Boys albums, we were listening to The Kinks and The Beatles. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the music we listened to on our various outings to the grocery store, swimming lessons, etc. Admitting to it was the problem. All I wanted was to fit in, and I was sure the music I listened to set the tone (pardon the pun) for my social shortcomings.
At the age I was, being unable to sing along to the pop music of my peer group was utterly humiliating. I felt it prevented any chance of climbing the proverbial social ladder. Being dropped off in my school’s parking lot was the worst. I felt as if a spotlight was bearing down upon me as I exited the car, while the Golden Oldies blasted through the open door. My classmates would stare, and I could feel a blush creep to my cheeks. Of course, this all was in my head; a complete exaggeration imagined in my mind. No one looked or pointed or laughed, but I was sure that the music got louder as I opened the car door, jumped out and hastily slammed it shut.
At the age of eleven, I was transferred to a school close enough to my house that I could walk there parent-free. To me, this was the kind of freedom I had been waiting all my life for. I would bring my Sony Walkman along, listening to mix tapes I had made specifically for the 15 minute journey to school. Eventually, I learned the words to every song on Rick Dee’s Weekly Top 40’s Countdown. With a sense of pride, I would hum, sing, and tap along to every song I heard at a school dance, from a passing car, anything emitting the sounds I had worked so hard to memorize.
After a few months however, I realized that nothing was changing; though I felt different on the inside, I still looked the same, had the same group of friends, and that’s when I realized that knowing lyrics to pop songs had absolutely no effect on popularity whatsoever. In fact, every person in my class knew all the same songs, and all varied in popularity status. It was then that I realized that I was free to listen to whatever type of music I wanted. I didn’t stop listening to pop music altogether, but as I grew older, I developed a love for all types of music, old and new.
Today, I take pride in the fact that I have a healthy dose of love for the oldies. My dad played a significant role in the shaping of my love for music by exposing me to many different types at a young age. Though it may feel to my own children someday that I am ruining their lives by controlling my car radio, I will definitely continue and hopefully pass on the tradition of exposing my kids to all kinds of great music.
When my sister and I were young, our father controlled the car radio. He said that he did it because his father used to do the same to him, but I felt like he was trying to ruin my life. While my friends were listening to the new Spice Girls or Backstreet Boys albums, we were listening to The Kinks and The Beatles. It wasn’t that I didn’t like the music we listened to on our various outings to the grocery store, swimming lessons, etc. Admitting to it was the problem. All I wanted was to fit in, and I was sure the music I listened to set the tone (pardon the pun) for my social shortcomings.
At the age I was, being unable to sing along to the pop music of my peer group was utterly humiliating. I felt it prevented any chance of climbing the proverbial social ladder. Being dropped off in my school’s parking lot was the worst. I felt as if a spotlight was bearing down upon me as I exited the car, while the Golden Oldies blasted through the open door. My classmates would stare, and I could feel a blush creep to my cheeks. Of course, this all was in my head; a complete exaggeration imagined in my mind. No one looked or pointed or laughed, but I was sure that the music got louder as I opened the car door, jumped out and hastily slammed it shut.
At the age of eleven, I was transferred to a school close enough to my house that I could walk there parent-free. To me, this was the kind of freedom I had been waiting all my life for. I would bring my Sony Walkman along, listening to mix tapes I had made specifically for the 15 minute journey to school. Eventually, I learned the words to every song on Rick Dee’s Weekly Top 40’s Countdown. With a sense of pride, I would hum, sing, and tap along to every song I heard at a school dance, from a passing car, anything emitting the sounds I had worked so hard to memorize.
After a few months however, I realized that nothing was changing; though I felt different on the inside, I still looked the same, had the same group of friends, and that’s when I realized that knowing lyrics to pop songs had absolutely no effect on popularity whatsoever. In fact, every person in my class knew all the same songs, and all varied in popularity status. It was then that I realized that I was free to listen to whatever type of music I wanted. I didn’t stop listening to pop music altogether, but as I grew older, I developed a love for all types of music, old and new.
Today, I take pride in the fact that I have a healthy dose of love for the oldies. My dad played a significant role in the shaping of my love for music by exposing me to many different types at a young age. Though it may feel to my own children someday that I am ruining their lives by controlling my car radio, I will definitely continue and hopefully pass on the tradition of exposing my kids to all kinds of great music.
