Monday, September 28, 2009

This Ain't Yo Mama's Lullaby

Growing up in my house was pretty darn normal for a southern family. We went to church every Sunday morning, Sunday evening and Wednesday evening. And if we were in revival, we went on Saturdays and Mondays too. We had big Thanksgiving dinners, huge Christmas gatherings and never missed receiving a birthday party. I had all I ever wanted as a kid - especially food, since I grew up a restaurant kid. Something else I had a lot of was music. I had lots of "tapes" (and eventually CDs) and so did my parents.

Herein lies the problem.

My parents preference of music was, well......a little....ok, a lot to be desired by my standards today. Of course, back then, I thought it was awesome!! That's right folks....they loved them some southern gospel!!! Everything from Jimmy Swaggart, Naomi and the Segoes, The MacKamey's, Gold City Quartet and Bill Gaither, with the cash cow every marketer from each corner of the globe wanted to get a piece of, The Homecomings. This is what I listened to
growing up. I knew, and probably still know, most of the "great" southern gospel anthems of our time.

Now, don't count out the fact that we also purchased many a soundtrack - does "Cocktail," "Dirty Dancing," (gasp) and "Grease" ring a bell?

I thought so.

I also enjoyed anything by "The Chipmunks" and "Muppets."

To me, this was normal. All southern gospel, all the time. It's what I k
new. It's what I thought was all that existed (save the Devil's music like Milli Vanilli and Run DMC.) So, you can imagine my shock and partial dismay when I discovered my parents - yes, both of them - knew the lyrics to a little ditty from this album:

(Somewhere an old Assembly of God lady just lost her salvation and got it back again.)

That's right folks. My parents are familiar with "The Pussycat Dolls." Not only are they familiar with these charming young "ladies," but they have decided to TEACH MY NINETEEN MONTH OLD THE LYRICS TO THE SONG - "HOT LIKE ME" or "Don't Cha" or whatever it is.

I'll give you a minute to digest what you've just read.......

Can you imagine what the look on my face must have been when I entered my parent's house on a Monday afternoon to hear this:

Meme and Papa (in unison): "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like....."

Celie (solo): "Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"

Meme and Papa (in unison): "Don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like...."

Celie (solo): "Meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee"

Meme and Papa (in unison): "Don't ya?"


It could have been: "Jesus Loves Me," "This Little Light of Mine," "Jesus Loves the Little Children," anything. But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO we had to venture into the land of The Pussycat Dolls. I could refer to them as PCD, but it sounds SO much dirtier when I spell it out in its entirety. I'm not really sure when this familiarity started with The Pussycat Dolls and I'm not so sure I like it.

I'll tell you who else doesn't like it, and that's Bill Gaither.

I'm actually quite surprised in the sudden (well, who even knows if this is sudden. They could be closet Lady Ga Ga lovers too) change in my parents' musical tastes. Granted I know my mother was a HUGE Beatles fan (and probably anything else that went along with being a Beatles fan.) However, my mom is the same lady who gets mad at me if I say the word, "crap" in front of her. This is the same lady who tells me I'm going to choke and die and burn in a devil's hell if I don't say the blessing before every meal, snack, taste or lick. These are the same people who if they
find someones actions disapproving (let's loving the Pussycat Dolls) and they say it out loud, immediately ask the Lord's forgiveness. For example:

Mother: "Well, you know I think he robbed that bank because he drinks so much."
Father: "Uh huh."
Mother (panicked): "Oh dear Lord forgive me for saying that!!!!"

You know, because the Lord sits in heaven with a big fat eraser and removes and adds your name to Heaven's Guest List when you "sin" and then repent really quick.

In case you can't tell, I became a Baptist in 1997.

And these are the people who have taught my sweet, innocent, loving, charming, hilarious, musically gifted child the lyrics to....


It is with that statement I bid you farewell.

Pray for me.