I must confess: I’m a little pathetic. The only time I listen to “my music” is when I’m in the car, or on the treadmill listening to my Ipod. It seems that the husband has not only commandeered the t.v. with “his” remote but has also confiscated the entire sound system that plays music in our house. Before marriage, I had a very simple stereo and was always listening to music – Joni Mitchell, Aretha Franklin, Jefferson Airplane, Ricki Lee Jones, Edith Piaf, and opera. Yes, I love opera. After marriage, something happened, and that something rendered music inoperable for me, due to the husband’s state-of-the-art home audio system. Yes – it’s a system attached to the t.v. and the radio, with a top-loading DVD/CD player, surround-sound processor with AM/FM tuner, center channel amplifier, satellite speakers, dual subwoofer in bandpass enclosures…need I say more?
It seems that listening to “my music” has never been so friggin’ complicated before. It’s true that I enjoy the husband’s music choices at times, especially when he plays the Beatles or Bob Dylan, but sometimes, just sometimes, I want to hear what I want to hear and I want to hear it so loud it’s vibrating all over the house.
As I write this blog, it makes me think about my mom. As kids, we never let her listen to her music either. At home, we always played our music; in the car, we played our music. We controlled all the sound in our house. Poor mom. The only time I remember her listening to her music was when we got home from school and found her listening to Mario Lanza or opera.
She loved opera, and guess what? I made fun of it back then. So, on this anniversary of my mom’s death, I’m playing some of her music, and believe me, it wasn’t easy getting the system to work. For her, I figured it out. So, I hope she’s enjoying “La Boheme” (I’m listening to it now). If I owned a Mario Lanza cd, I would be playing that for her, but somehow I know she’s enjoying Luciano Pavarotti.