Running Red Momma

For a number of years, my husband and I have settled into an agreed upon set of radio tunes.  We have our obligatory NPR, his classic rock and my beloved brainless 80s music. A station we have listened to our entire marriage has lost most of its charm.  But, I was still shocked when he took it out of the line-up.  Instead, I could only describe the new station as B-hits of classic rock.  I complained when I got home.  "We ALREADY have a classic rock station honey!" I reminded him. "Yeah, but they call this  smooth classic rock," he defended himself.  Anyone hear the bell of middle age?  It's coming around the corner as we speak! 

A few years ago, I helped supervise a youth car wash.  I remember an older gentleman from our neighborhood zooming up in his red sports car.  When he rolled down his window and I tried to answer his questions, I was amused by is determination to keep listening to his cranked up Styx even when he was having a hard time hearing me.  The "concept album" was dead, but it still gushed out in its glorious combination of guitars/synthesizer and over-the-top dramatic vocals.   Although his car was red and music was loud, it struck me as all very middle-aged.   I chuckled to myself that he was not aware of how the whole scene was playing out. Time has moved on and clearly I have aged as well.  As I drove my daughter home from ballet, I found one of my great "angry anthems".   Alanis Morissette, in all her fury had once brought great comfort to me after a break-up.  I would holler along with Alanis to  "You oughta know" while driving late at night. As I zoomed up th...