I like music from the seventies. I know you aren't supposed to admit to things like that, it's like confessing that you secretly watch The Bachelor or like to macrame. And I do. I watch The Bachelor AND I love to macrame. If you want something macramed, call me! (But only if what you want macramed is a hanging pot holder.) Macrame was one of the first things that I tried that I was actually excellent at right out of the gate. Perhaps the only time in my entire life that this happened, come to think of it. The fourth graders at St. Mags were astounded. How could anyone be NATURALLY GOOD AT MACRAME? Of course, I haven't done it since I was eight so I may not be able to do it any longer. Is it like riding a bike?
I also like the clothes from the seventies -- the ones made from natural fibres, not the polyester ones. Bell bottom jeans and Frye boots and peasant tops. Big collars and sandals with the cork heels. Maybe it's because I associate the seventies with my mum and driving in her fake-wood panelled station wagon while listening to "Up Up and Away in my Beautiful Balloon" on our way to $1.49 day at Woodwards. Or maybe it's simply because the things from your childhood are comforting and just more familiar than anything else.
Or maybe all the detritus, the songs, and the clothes from your childhood are really your first home, in a way.
My kids will probably have an irrational love for Mumford & Sons, leather boots, and clothes from Anthropologie.
And these two songs, which I've been playing in the car lately at full volume. It's something about the crescendo and the harmonies that do the same thing to me emotionally as the whole "chorus of voices" phenomenon. Or maybe it's the theme of being a brotherhood of man, of being held up, supported, loved. I've been needing some of that lately, too.
So turn the volume up and lets sing along together like the huge dorks that you know we are, OK? Go.