Random Memories. I just read one of Veronica's and it reminded me of this one:
Growing up, Saturday was CLEANING DAY. I hated Saturdays. With. A. Passion. Each of us kids had a specific chore, and when we finished that, Mom always had a list ready of more work to do. Our Saturdays belonged to her. The only good thing about Saturdays was Mom's record collection, which we faithfully played over and over each week. One of the albums was called "SuperGirls", and featured hits by the girl groups of the 50s and 60s. I know every word and beat to "Leader of the Pack" (vrooom vrooom!), "My Boyfriend's Back", "It's My Party"....
We also listened to John Denver. Every record he ever made could be found in my Mom's collection. She loved John Denver. LOVED him. And for that reason and that reason alone, I had to pretend that I didn't. The truth was, I loved John Denver, too, but I wouldn't have dared admit it to my Mom or anyone else for that matter. I pretended to be disgusted by the rocky mountain highness of John Denver's music. But I knew every nuance of every verse of every song by heart.
When I was about 13 or 14, I was talking with a group of adults, and for some reason, John Denver came up. I chirped, "My Mom is a John Denver groupie!" I remember that their eyes got big and that someone repeated me, "A John Denver GROUPIE?"
"Oh yah!" I enthused. "She has been ever since she lived in Denver when she was in college. She LOVES him." I went on and on. The grown-ups laughed. I took that as permission to keep going on about what a HUGE groupie my Mom was and how she was trying to make me a groupie too.
It was YEARS later that I learned what a groupie really is. Have mercy. I was embarrassed for myself. All those years later, and I felt sheer mortification for what I'd said all those years earlier.
So just to set the record straight: my Mom is not and never was a John Denver groupie. And I am no longer ashamed to admit it: Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy. :)