80s Hair Bands and Early Mornings
It's funny how music can bring up memories in an instant.
Last week I was driving down I-235 to pick mom up for our weekly lunch (typically at McNellies Pub, because it's as Irish as you can get in Oklahoma) when a song came on the radio.
The song was "Your Mama Don't Dance" by one of Howard's favorite bands, Poison. As soon as the song started in on its contagiously fun rhythms, I couldn't help but smile and laugh.
The summer before Howard died he started listening to his old records that he kept up at the top of his side of the closet. I remember when he pulled out his old record player and speakers with wires tangled all over the place. I remember 3 weeks worth of listening to music from famous hair bands from the 80s.
On the weekends I would wake up to Howard jamming out abnormally early in the morning. Since I am not anywhere remotely close to a morning person, this used to drive me crazy.
I would throw off the covers, head down the hallway through the living room, dining room and kitchen to Mom and his side of the house. There I would find him, reclined in his Batcave rocking out. Sometimes he would even pull out his old cream and blood red electric guitar and strum along.
"Are you crazy?" I would ask, sleepy and cranky.
He would smile a guilty smile and say something peevish.
"Did I wake you, princess?"
"Why are you listening to rock music right now? Can't it be something more mellow? What about relaxing harp sounds? Why can't it be that?" At this point I would usually yawn and place my hands on my hips to make a point.
"This isn't just rock music, Kateleigh. This is magic." He would say.
I would roll my eyes and he would lip sync the lyrics to whatever song was playing. He could always make me smile, even when I didn't feel like it.
"Well since you woke me up, can you at least make some breakfast?" I'd ask. And of course he would nod.
It's memories like that that help me remember how fun and loving he was. It's memories like that which help me remember what he looked like.
Sometimes I wish I wouldn't have seen him that day out in the woods. You shouldn't have to see a loved one like that. You should remember them for who they were, not how they looked when they died.
Mom told me someone said that the tree had knocked him unconscious when he died. I never went to see his body after it happened. Mom said I told her I didn't want to go. I don't remember this.
She said that Howard looked like Howard, although when the tree fell it broke his nose.
I wish I could wake up listening to 80s hair bands. If that was possible, I wouldn't be cranky. I would just go in and spend time with him. I would spend as much time with him as I could.
Written: 2.14.17
Last week I was driving down I-235 to pick mom up for our weekly lunch (typically at McNellies Pub, because it's as Irish as you can get in Oklahoma) when a song came on the radio.
The song was "Your Mama Don't Dance" by one of Howard's favorite bands, Poison. As soon as the song started in on its contagiously fun rhythms, I couldn't help but smile and laugh.
The summer before Howard died he started listening to his old records that he kept up at the top of his side of the closet. I remember when he pulled out his old record player and speakers with wires tangled all over the place. I remember 3 weeks worth of listening to music from famous hair bands from the 80s.
On the weekends I would wake up to Howard jamming out abnormally early in the morning. Since I am not anywhere remotely close to a morning person, this used to drive me crazy.
I would throw off the covers, head down the hallway through the living room, dining room and kitchen to Mom and his side of the house. There I would find him, reclined in his Batcave rocking out. Sometimes he would even pull out his old cream and blood red electric guitar and strum along.
"Are you crazy?" I would ask, sleepy and cranky.
He would smile a guilty smile and say something peevish.
"Did I wake you, princess?"
"Why are you listening to rock music right now? Can't it be something more mellow? What about relaxing harp sounds? Why can't it be that?" At this point I would usually yawn and place my hands on my hips to make a point.
"This isn't just rock music, Kateleigh. This is magic." He would say.
I would roll my eyes and he would lip sync the lyrics to whatever song was playing. He could always make me smile, even when I didn't feel like it.
"Well since you woke me up, can you at least make some breakfast?" I'd ask. And of course he would nod.
It's memories like that that help me remember how fun and loving he was. It's memories like that which help me remember what he looked like.
Sometimes I wish I wouldn't have seen him that day out in the woods. You shouldn't have to see a loved one like that. You should remember them for who they were, not how they looked when they died.
Mom told me someone said that the tree had knocked him unconscious when he died. I never went to see his body after it happened. Mom said I told her I didn't want to go. I don't remember this.
She said that Howard looked like Howard, although when the tree fell it broke his nose.
I wish I could wake up listening to 80s hair bands. If that was possible, I wouldn't be cranky. I would just go in and spend time with him. I would spend as much time with him as I could.
Written: 2.14.17
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