SINGING OUT LOUD

I was thinking today about patterns. When I was kid (elementary school age) and I would get into a blue funk I would pop one of my favorite records onto the turntable and dance around my room singing into a hairbrush. Back then, that meant it was Cher's Greatest Hits, Shawn Cassidy's Greatest Hits, or it might have been this record that I ordered off of the TV. It was purple and it had a big clunky shoes on the cover. The name of it is on the tip of my tongue, but I can't quite pull it up. My mother says that I composed quite the letter to place my order. Apparently, it was $7.99, or something like that, and I told them I was sending them $8.00, and I gave them my address so they could send me back the penny. She thought that was hysterical. She sent a check and kept my letter.


As I got older, and moved into junior high and high school, the groups changed and cassettes became more the thing, although records did hang on for a while. And we had an eight track player that still got some use. I discovered that I liked singing into a curling iron better because it had a cord, and that lent a certain panache to the singing experience that the hairbrush lacked. Of course, it had a danger factor, too. Tripping was problematic if you got caught up in the song and weren't paying attention. That did happen on a number of occasions. The 80s lent themselves really well to the curling iron. Who didn't love to croon "Bette Davis Eyes" into the curling iron? "I'm Still Standing" always made me feel better after a lousy day at school. Barbra Streisand released "THE BROADWAY ALBUM" and I thought I died and went to heaven. For a curling iron want-to-be singing diva this was manna from heaven. It just didn't get any better. Here's to the ladies who lunch!


I lost my love for music in college when I majored in it. That was a very blue period that did get better after I dropped music as my major after freshman year. Fortunately, I would still go to parties, and there would be music, and I would sing along, and it would satisfy this elemental craving that I still didn't know I had. After college, I went back to singing along with the radio and my tapes. I wasn't CD techno yet. Alas, I was too mature to sing into my hairbrush or curling iron or dance around my room like a primadonna.

It was only in my singledom that I rediscovered the power of dancing and singing it out. It works with or without the hairbrush/curling iron. Anytime I start to feel blue, I just have to crank up something with a beat. Now, this doesn't work so hot if I have a migraine. But, any other time, it is a surefire home run. The funny thing is my dog. As soon as the music comes on, she comes running. She wants to dance, too. And she barks at me until I pick up her front feet and dance with her, or pick her up and hold her while I dance. Who can stay depressed with all that going on?

So, have you ever sung into your hairbrush or curling iron or danced with one of your pets? What crazy thing do you do to kick a blue mood?