I’m told that smell is the closest sense tied to memory. I reject this notion. The smells of the kitchen may bring memories of growing up or family gatherings for some; but my parents didn’t cook much and frozen pizza doesn’t have much of a smell. For me, it has always been music that transports me to a past time, place and emotion.
My parents were Thespians, one a flautist and the other a DJ. Music was a huge part of their life and no doubt ingrained in me from the moment of conception. I do not know the details of their lovemaking session that night, nor do I care to imagine. But I do have some inside details on how that particular piece of my dad was able to get to that part of my mom; I was there after all. 😉 To celebrate my 101 post on WordPress, here is a little Discography lesson on my origins; music 101 if you will.
It was no doubt a race of time for those thousands of little sperm. They were knocking each other over through that dark Autobahn tunnel; trying to detour others down the wrong tube. What ever it takes to get to the big picture and win. (Sorry Diana, unintentional reference)
There was one special one though, not concerned with the ETA of his arrival, but the journey getting there. He danced and wiggled his way up, bouncing his rhythmic vibes against the walls of my Mom’s soul. The sound waves echoed and reverberated all the way up to where that precious egg was laying in waiting.
So it didn’t matter that others got there quicker, because she already knew he was coming. An army of bouncers was deployed to keep the wannabe ME’s out. Wannabe is probably a little harsh; they were all parts of my Dad, very quick and determined little buggers. Except the best part of him was the one dancing his way to the stage of their opus, the one that made me. When he arrived, the others were already surrounding her, trying to rush the stage. That’s when he stiffened up a bit, stopped wiggling that tail for a moment, and shaped himself into a microphone. That sweet, soulful voice came out the head and all the room fell silent. He serenaded the crowd of sperm and one lucky lady, with some Al Green.
A couple of the others followed suit with their own love songs. A womb full of Marvin Gaye and Isaac Hayes; all trying to make sweet, sweet love and create a baby for their lady. One of the more original sperm tried a different approach, “Roxanne, You don’t have to put out that Red Light.” She didn’t find it amusing though and shot out a bit of natural spermicide from her cervix. “I betcha that Stings!” the joker of the group laughed.
My dad never let others stop him and just kept on singing, “Here I am Baby, Come And Take Me! Here I am baby!” His soul was so powerful, the crowd started to split creating a path towards that big circular stage. It was their mutual love of music that broke down those walls and finally let him in. Together, they created the masterpiece that is me; a symphony of the best parts of him wrapped up and loved by the best parts of her.
It was inevitable that my memories would forever be ingrained by the music that surrounded them.
Please share the song that made you below; I would love to hear it!
Stay tuned for more tunes in this Discography series; songs not just sung in the background of my life, but memories and pieces of my soul.