Day 2 of the 25 Days, 25 Songs challenge was…interesting. Some of you have fond memories of your ex’s and some of you…well, there’s just some of you. Moving onward! It’s time for Day 3! A song which reminds you of your parents.
There are any number of songs which remind me of my parents. My parents and I have very different musical tastes. My dad listens to Oldies and Classic Rock. My mother listens to Adult Contemporary and Country. I listen to mostly Hard Rock with a few bits and pieces from various other genres sprinkled in for a nice, eclectic mix.
It’s gonna be tough to narrow this down to a single song. I mean, I could count off numerous Oldies to which I was forced to listen while strapped in the back of a car (by a seatbelt, Maphia, calm down) on the countless road trips we made when I was young. There are various silly songs my mother sang to me which her mom sang to her (but would never show up on YouTube) in addition to the many Country songs I was subjected to as a teenager. I won’t even mention how I was forced to listen to Celine Dion. Oh, wait…
Since I’m required, however, to choose only one song for the purposes of this challenge, I’m going to have to go with No One Else On Earth by Wynonna Judd.
It was the early 90’s. My parents were living apart. My dad had moved us to Washington Court House, Ohio because he no longer wanted to live anywhere near Atlanta. He wanted to move back to Cincinnati. Washington Court House was, ostensibly, the closest city in which he could find a job, yet was still and hour and a half away. My mom had stayed in Atlanta to sell our house. At least, that’s what I was told. These were the months leading up to their official separation so I don’t rightly know for certain.
That summer, we stayed with my mother in Atlanta. My mother was a completely different woman than the one I had come to know as a child. She was more relaxed. Laid back. She began showing some individuality. She was becoming more comfortable in her own skin. She was more fun to be around, I assume, because she was no longer walking around on eggshells and didn’t have to worry about displeasing my father since he wasn’t there to administer his caustic criticism.
One of the first things I noticed about my mother, the individual, was her taste in music. No longer did oldies dominate on the radio. My father’s despotic reach didn’t cover the hundreds of miles from Ohio to Georgia. My mother had begun listening to Country music radio. She bought Country music on cassette. One of the first albums she bought was Wynonna Judd’s Wynonna. The first single on that album was No One Else On Earth, which we listened to more times than a Valley Girl can say “like” in a single sentence.
I eventually came to like this song, which I blame on Stockholm Syndrome. The time would come when my mother and I would be cruising along the Georgia highways in her little gray Ford Escort, belting out the lyrics right along with Wynonna. I should probably be ashamed of that, but I love my mother and regret nothing.
Despite those troubled times, I have many found memories of that summer. We bonded quite a bit during those three months and I had a newfound respect for her by the time I had to return to Ohio to resume my education.