Spiraling on Music

I love music. 

I love that way it speaks to me, for me and through me. 

I love Stevie and the way he expresses his sentiments of love, pain, joy, and exuberance. 

I love the gentle way he talks about life and nature. 

Sometimes I enjoy hip-hop, and nodding my head as if I were 17 again.

But, I'm not.

So, it is old school that speaks to me like no other type of music can.

I am old school.

I am the worn out grooves of the 45 left on the dusty hi-fi.

I am the "arm" left back so that the song can play over and over in the night.

I am old school. Not doo wop.

No, but I am tight sharkskin suits and processed hair.

I am thick and thin socks and red lipstick.

I am stockings with garter belts,

Shimmering on stage.

I am a glittered evening gown, heavy eyeliner, and a french roll.

Hey...I am a kiss curl glued to the side of your face with "ticky sticky"!

I am the phillly dog, the twist, the boogaloo, the bop, and the penguin.

I am gold lame elbow gloves, and I'm hopscotch with the clay brick chipped off of an old building.

I am "rock teacher", hide 'n seek, "mother may I"

and still listening to my rhythm and blues on a transistor radio.

On AM

I am white cuffed shirts with diamond cuff links...

I am hair pressed with royal crown, dixie peach, and hair rep.

I am hair sprayed, but I am not dippity-do.

Nope. 

But I am the hair that is smoke-filled and nappy at a basement party where the lightbulb was unscrewed when your mama went upstairs.

I am hot and sticky clothes wet from "socialing" too close with the boy with the "good hair".

I am old school.

I still snap my fingers....I know how to double clap.

I say, HEYYY when my jam comes on.

And my arm goes up 'cause I am feeling that song.

I love music, and the way it makes me feel, makes me remember, and helps me forget.

But, it's old school that knows how to do that best.

By Barbara Kellom