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Love That Music

There is no doubt in my mind that everyoneís parents hate the music their kids listen to.

It doesnít matter how old you or your parents are. Itís just simply now one of the code of ethics for parents. Hate the music your kids listen to or you will hunted down and tortured.

My parents are no exception. They can deal with me listening to grunge and metal, but they obviously hate it (the twitching and jerky movements give it away.) My mother would prefer a disco sound while my dad will sit for hours and listen to radio shows playing old music like Duke Ellingtonís orchestra and the Cave Man Beats On Drum band.

He has a wide variety of music selection too. He happens to like some modern bands too, like Cake or Rage Against the Machine. Glenn holes up in his room and blows out the windows playing Pantera at 4520 decibels. We get hate mail every year from very angry Europeans who would like to get some sleep sometime this millennium.

Elizabeth likes whateverís popular at the time, along with others such as Garbage or No Doubt.

So with such a variety in the house, how do we get along with out tearing each otherís throats out? Simple. Thereís only a few song that everyone likes; one being "Bulls on Parade," (donít even ask me how that got to be one of our favorite) and "Werewolves of London." We like that specifically because of the howling part.

When these songs arenít playing, our parents usually are responsible and mature enough to bound and gag us so they can listen to their music only. Just kidding, ha ha ha ha. Really now, they just smash our eight-tracks.

The only genre our family really doesnít have anything to do with is country. Itís not surprising even though we live in Maine and it happens to be the most popular around here. Since my parents are from Pennsylvania and New Jersey, they grew up mostly around rock and roll and (fortunately) never really got into the country scene.

My dad, since he knows I canít stand country music, will keep switching the car radio around until he finds a country station and blast it (this is true). Heíll show me a toothy grin and say, "Doesnít this remind you of riding a horse?" And Iíll say nothing because Iíve just expired from listening to country music.

And my mother has the best hearing Iíve ever seen. My radio will be on at night (it sits right next to my head) playing so softly that I canít even hear it. She'll come bounding in at two in the morning and yell hoarsely at me how loud Ďthat thingí is. I donít know how she can hear it when I canít.

One thing sticks that out about my family and is a good note to end on: we apreciate all kinds of music. Not necessarily like it, just respect it. So feel free to turn any station when weíre around. But for Godís sake, please no country.

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© By Paul Adams