Heart on my  Dust-Sleeve Jacket

 

Toddlers today have a never ending supply of heroes to watch and learn from on television. Throw a stone in any direction and it will land amongst a merchandising mecca. Kingdoms created purely for consumerism dedicated to any one animated idol to adore. There are dozens of brightly colored, gregarious and eager to please beavers out there from a dopey dinosaur to a nonstop list of super heroes sure to help develop whatever fetish that may be lying in wait with in. I mean cracked out cartoon characters are a dime dozen. I’m in for Scooby-Doo but that wasn’t until I was 22.

When I was three I had Elton John and album covers. Who needed TV when there where wondrous stories being told on record jackets and sleeves?

 It was a different era with limited resources then. There weren’t seven different cable networks solely dedicated to children’s programming. Shit, there wasn’t even cable.  (Yea that’s right. We animated our own cartoons. On flip tablets made of stone, uphill…both ways.)  Back then kids only got about seven shows to choose from a…week! (Gasp! The horror! And yes slightly exaggerated as well.)

 There was Captain Kangaroo but that was on wicked early and I have never been a morning person even when I was three. I remember  The first memories I have of that show can be dated by where I was living at the time which was the second house we lived in a couple of years after I saw Tommy, the Rock Opera from The Who, at the drive-in with my parents.

Maybe they thought their little three year old would be nodded out in the back seat long before the feature started. It wasn’t like it was Snow White you know? It was a tripped out musical spectacle about sex-abuse, drug use, exploitation, vanity, blasphemy and more! You know a real feel good movie event… an odyssey that the whole family can enjoy together!  By nature though I was attentive to everything that was going around me as in Micki never missed a thing…or anything that may be coming up! I’m sure it was a bit much to take at times because they too were just kids. Their fondness however of recalling the little Micki days makes me believe they were frequently entertained by their cherub faced, curly haired, more curious than a kitty-cat yakkitty-yakyak daughter.

Imagine their enlightened surprise however when their scamp of a sweet-pea beamed at the screen, “Elton John! Elton John!” when indeed he, Elton John, appeared in the movie. He towered over everyone in his scene while wearing the most exaggerated platforms shoes that anyone has ever seen…EVER…anywhere.  He played the original pinball champion that was dethroned by the title character Tommy, The Pinball Wizard. Who needed Bert and Ernie and Big Bird? Have you ever seen the get-ups that divinely talented pianist showboat used to wear in the 70’s during his stage shows? Then there was what was on the record itself. The music rock music to be exact and it was heaven.

A year or so after the Elton John extravaganza Santa brought me a Donnie and Marie (Osmond) microphone. It was kind of like the one from the iconic T.V. commercial-“Hey good lookin! I’ll be back to pick YOU up later!”  It worked by using an unoccupied radio frequency as a speaker amplifier. Hoo-doggies this was going to be awesome!

STEP RIGHT UP FOLKS! NOW I CAN SING!!!

I can’t even describe how excited and exhilarated I was with my new toy! My parents played music ALL of the time and my absolute favorite thing to do was S I N G along! NOW I could actually hear myself sing too! Really hear it! Oh boy this was going to be huge!

I waited anxiously for my Dad to put on an album. He went with Rod Stewart, A Night On The Town. Microphone on, song rolling, the room was mine. Everyone was watching! Everyone was waiting for me! I felt my face flush from the excitement. The electricity created in that moment kicked my heart even faster!  There was no turning back!

I opened my mouth and belted out the first line from the first cut on side one- Stay away from my window. Stay away from my back door too… (Yes I was five. Don’t judge.)

Instantly I was horrified. I sucked badly. I turned the mic off immediately. I may have even cried. My folks were very nurturing but my singing was so awful they didn’t even feign an attempt to placate the delicate ego of their little strawberry. 

Looking back I recall that they really didn’t seem to be as shocked by my horrible singing as I was. They already knew I couldn’t sing but somehow I got that microphone anyway. It wasn’t about being a good or bad singer they knew I loved singing and that was all that mattered.

Even though the sound of my voice was ridiculously off key and truly awful I was still intrigued by the sound over the speakers. That sound was my voice…AMPLIFIED. I liked how it felt. I liked how I could really be heard. It wasn’t the voice I was hoping for but it was a powerful voice none the less. Can I get an A-HA? (The Big O would be proud.)

So I wasn’t going to be a singer, bummer. But, I knew right then I was going to find SOME way to be on the radio. At that time though when everything was uphill both ways, there weren’t a lot of women on the radio and if there were, they were truly a side-kick on the morning shows. There to make the coffee and read the news. And if you recall, I never have been a morning person so I rarely heard the women who were talking on the radio at that time.

A couple of years later though I heard a woman on the radio that made me sit up and take notice. A Storm blew through me on a spring day in 1983 when I heard taped radio shows from Houston Texas featuring a sports reporter named Hannah Storm. The chick was ballsy too and hearing a girl hang like that blew my mental speakers out!  I fell in love with her. (Dudes can insert pillow fight here.) Seriously though when I realized that I could be on the radio and say shit like Hannah Storm said… I was charmed.  I was 10 when I realized my destiny…first of many I hope!

So for a minute I was devastated that I couldn’t be a “Rock Star”. But in the very next minute I had discovered a new way to rock. Once again not as I had hoped for or imagined but my radio career was a hell of a ride and I loved every minute of it even the loathsome parts.  The blessings I continue to receive because of my gig amaze me and my heart grows every day because of it.

And did I stop singing out loud for because I couldn’t carry a tune? Hardly, I am inclined to believe I sing even louder in spite of that fact. Do it! LIVE LOUD!

As my journey evolves while I am here on this rotating carbon bomb waiting to happen I am going to pay homage to my passion, rock music, by which it has set forth on me an awakening about our spiritual selves. The Earth is the 3^rd Rock from the Sun and we chose to come here to literally rock it out. Each and every one of us is truly a rock star. Tangents from a Live Wire will explore every aspect of life that the magical mystery tour promises in the beginning but we lose sight of in the middle. I invite to come on board.

Tomorrow I will explain the groovy way this blog came to be. Haters gonna hate.

 

In the meantime, please feel encouraged to contribute by commenting and spreading the love!

Thank you.

 

Peace and understanding,

 

Micki