The music that defines the story of us becoming who we are.

Just keep your faith in me

don't act impatiently

you'll get where you need to be in due time

Even when things are slow

hold on and don't let go

I give you what I owe

in due time

~ Outkast

My friend Mary M. loves The Rolling Stones. She also has a deep adoration for Bob Dylan, The Beatles, and many other artists and musical genres. Music has always been a centerpiece in her home just like it is for many of us. One of her daughters plays the mandolin and her eldest grandson (who is only five, by the way) knows the Stones well enough to blow the dust off of an album and drop a nickel on top of it. Okay. Maybe that's an exaggeration, but the kid does have a true appreciation for sixties rock and roll.

Yup.

I love the way music evokes such powerful memories. For Mary's grandson, Owen, the cry of Keith Richards' guitar or the throaty crooning of Mick Jagger will likely pull him into the warmest, safest time of his life. Each note will cause his heart to swell with the strongest of reflections of his grandmother sweeping the porch or his grandfather laughing in a nearby chair in his overalls. So that--the sound of The Rolling Stones--will be as intense as the smell of sage at Thanksgiving or the thick aroma of a Southern summer after a hard rain for him.

Always, alway, always.

But for his grandmother? Those Rolling Stones notes take her to different places. It likely brings her back to defining moments and coming of age experiences. Some good, some worth forgetting and others decidedly unforgettable. But the music does that. It punctuates these pivotal times--particularly when the artists' evolution happens in concert with our own.

Yes.

When I was seventeen years old, my father drove me from Los Angeles all the way to Alabama to start college at Tuskegee University. Within days, my favorite shoes were covered in red clay from walking through shortcuts to the cafeteria and my west coast "summer jackets" had been tossed into a heap for they would be of no use in the humidity of an Alabama August. In addition to that, I also remember the sounds that played in my dorm room off of Walmart special boom boxes. A quirky girl on my hall had two tapes that she played non-stop. One was Bob Marley and the Wailer's greatest hits and the other was Sting's Nothing Like the Sun. To this very day, those songs transport me back to Douglass Hall in 1988.

That said, there was some other music that was very, very unique to where I was. Southern hip hop music was in its infancy then. With its heavy bass undertones and catchy chants, it filled up our ears at every party. Additionally, half way through most parties, there would be a break out point with Chicago-style "house music"--something my California ears had never heard before. New friends taught me the dances and eventually I owned my own set of Miami bass and Chi-town house mix tapes. And all of that--whenever I hear it at any party--teleports me to crowded jam sessions with sweaty co-eds moving their bodies after a week of hard work.

So all of this--the music that defines different times in my life--has always been meaningful. Even when I don't hear the songs each day, when I do, it just does something to me. Puts me in a happy place. The words pop out of my lips like legs pedaling on a bike. The dances return to my limbs and I am there again. Whether it is Rapper's Delight with us pop locking and double dutching on the corner, Run DMC with us break dancing on cardboard boxes, Salt 'n' Pepa and us gyrating our narrow hips way too suggestively to be sophomores in high school, or LL Cool J signaling that the newest set of pledges from a fraternity or sorority at Tuskegee had just completed their much anticipated initiation--music is the universal tie that binds it all together.

Medical school, 1996

From Tuskegee, I went up to Nashville for medical school. Still in the southern United States and still in the environment of a historically black college. By this time, I'd embraced the "dirty South" as a part of who I was--the music, the slang, the all of it. That foreign humidity felt normal to me and words like "y'all" were now a regular part of my everyday vernacular. But the music? That, too became something I took ownership of as well.

Let me explain: In 1994, I was sitting in the living room of my friend Jada's apartment. Her boyfriend, Felix, was visiting from Arkansas where he'd just graduated from grad school and was playing this new tape he'd recently gotten. It was like nothing I'd ever heard. That said, there was a familiarity about it. The voices were unapologetically "down South" sounding. Not in that country and western way but more the urban tongues I often overheard from the Atlanta kids I'd come to know well in college. The two people rapping over this beat did what I'd heard only East Coast and West Coast emcees do -- but never anyone else from the less "on the map" places. These artists specifically called out places in Atlanta. Streets. The MARTA train. Bus routes. In the 'hood, no less. They shouted out all of those things that weren't really shiny or pretty but were still a part of them. And they talked about those things that, during that time for hip hop music, wasn't considered sexy at all.

Atlanta? As in Georgia? What?

Yep. Not even cryptic about it. They were like "This is who we are. Love it or leave it." And us? Then twenty somethings in the south? We LOVED it. Loved the uniqueness of it, the twang of it, the everything of it. And we played it and played it and played it until the strips almost rolled off of the reels.

The name of that group was so fitting, too. "Outkast." The real word is defined as one who has been rejected by society or a social group. And a lot of us kids embraced that because, at times, we felt like outcasts, too.

By 1996, they'd had another album drop which, by then, we referred to as a "CD." Ha. This one was even more "out there." It was aptly called "ATLiens" and chronicled the process of just trying to make it with very little. I knew all of the words to that CD, too. Somehow while studying to be somebody's doctor, I figured that part out at the same time. Ha.

And with this one? The Atlanta references were even stronger and in your face. Which everyone who was from anywhere felt proud about. Not just Atlanta. Any hood anywhere. It made the Houston rappers shout out Houston and even the Cleveland rappers talk about Cleveland.

Yes. Even Cleveland. 

Here's an excerpt from one of my favorite songs from back then:

"One for the money, yes suhh, two for the show
A couple of years ago on Headland and Delowe
Was the start of somethin' good
Where me and my -- rode the MARTA, through the hood
Just tryin' ta find that hookup
Now, everyday we look up at the ceilin'
Watchin' ceilin' fans go 'round tryin ta catch that feelin'
Off instrumental, had my pencil, and plus my paper
We caught the 86 Lithonia headed to Decatur . . . . "

And these--the words to a song called "Elevators"-- spoke to us all. At least the "all of us" who were with them during that time figuratively and, by our shared down South residence, literally. Because we were the ones who were shaking our hips and bopping our heads to it while trying to move on up in our own ways. . . . just like them.

1996

Up those Elevators to a deeee-luxe apartment in the sky. (Don't even get me started on television.)

To our parents and maybe even a lot of other people from other places it was just noise and nonsense. Maybe. But maybe not.

But to us? It was magical. 

This unusual duo--Outkast--went on to become very, very big Grammy-winning stars. They crossed over into other genres and gained tons of fans who weren't even born when we were "letting our tapes rock 'til our tapes popped" back in '94. Other albums became beloved by kids everywhere and of every hue. And still, we were all proud of them. Proud of all of it because their story was a part of ours. And we were right there with them as they came of age while we came of age, too.

What's also super cool is that a lot of those younger kids who became fans later have defining moments with this group as well. Just at different points with different meanings, you know?

Yep.

So after many, many years, Outkast went on a tour that both ended and culminated with a big three-day weekend in Atlanta--wittily referred to as #ATLast and destined to be epic. Partly because this group almost never tours. And second because it was ATLANTA. So originally, there was just one show slated for September 27, 2014. It was scheduled to be in the middle of Centennial Olympic Park in the literal heart of Atlanta. Of course, it sold out immediately.

They opened up two more shows for Friday and Sunday--those sold out in minutes, too. I was at work when they went on sale so admittedly wasn't in the number.

Nope.

But then as the date drew closer, I began to realize what part of my story their music told. I listened and could feel versions of what I feel when Nat King Cole sings "The Christmas Song" or The Temptations sing "Silent Night." I recognized that this would all be happening in Atlanta and reflected on all that happened in music out of Atlanta, Georgia after they emerged on the scene. I imagined me, coming of age, and even my young Grady patients who much more like Andre and Big Boi from Outkast than anyone I know.

I knew I had to figure out how to be there.

from the last rare chance I had to see them, Cleveland, OH during residency--got autographs to boot!

On a Hail Mary throw, I put it out there on Facebook (yes, I've broken down and entered Facebook--another post for another time.) And through the magic of social media, what started as me pouting about wishing I had committed to getting tickets, ended in two tickets in my hot little hand. Or rather on my hot little lap top.

JoLai was a part of that thread and she is a firm believer in the YOLO approach--that is, "you only live once." She knew what a fan I was and also understands exactly what I mean about the music that defines eras in our lives. She put straight into a comment: "If you can get the VIP ticket at that price, I will get for you. I want you to go that bad. #yolo!" 

How could I refuse that? Answer: I could not.

But what made it even better? The person who joined me was my friend Jada--the same one whose couch I sat criss cross applesauce on when I first heard that first tape. And guess who dropped us off at the concert? Her now husband of nearly 20 years, Felix. And guess how we got home? You guessed it. The MARTA.

Yep.

It was Jada's birthday the day we went to the concert. And we walked lockstep just like it was the old days at Meharry Medical College when we were first year students partnering on a cadaver in the gross anatomy lab. And that music? All of it? It was perfect. Nostalgic and the soundtrack to a rich story that is still being told.

We stood outdoors under the Atlanta skyline and amongst the energy of many, many ATLiens young and old on the final day of what will likely be their final tour. It felt epic because . . . well. . .it was. But mostly, because I let myself feel it. Feel the music, feel the time and place, feel the meaning of that friendship of twenty-plus years and remember what it felt like to sit with that same girl watching ceiling fans go 'round and trying to catch that feeling. . . .

Yeah, man.

I don't know what will be Mary's grandson Owen's Outkast. I can't begin to even guess what will be Isaiah and Zachary's Rolling Stones or Bob Dylan either. But what I do know is that there will be one. Or two. Or better yet, many more just like we have. And that music will play in the backgrounds on their mental iPods. . . .building a foundation of memories for them to safety retreat to through the magic of headphones and standing room only concerts in the park.


Yeah.

"Peace up"

"A-town down"

Thanks for an EPIC adventure, Jada. Then and now.

***
Happy Tuesday. You can find me in the A!

Now playing on my mental iPod. . . .one of my favorites featuring Outkast's homeboy (prominently featured all over that '94 debut) an unknown highschooler named Cee-Lo Green. Talent is everywhere. . .so many diamonds gleaming all around us, right? Don't sleep on ANYONE from ANYWHERE.



What is some of the music that defines the story of who you are? Which artists take you to sacred places?

Team S.J.G.R. Thursday Huddle #12: Playlist.

What's up, Team?

I hope everyone is having a GREAT week so far. I'm on the hospital service right now taking care of the inpatients so things are kind of busy. I admit that I'm about to have to go super hard this weekend to make up for how far I am from my 150 minutes this week. I ran for 57 minutes on Sunday and got in a 35 minute walk on Tuesday. Otherwise, I've been kind of raggedy with the deliberate exercise.

That said. . . .the Fitbit has been a great motivator this week, though. Taking care of hospitalized patients involves a lot of walking around. Maybe that's why they call it rounding? Hmmm. I don't know. But for reals? I have easily clocked 5 miles in that hospital each day just from regular work.  My Fitbit has inspired me to climb more flights of stairs and walk more.

So that got me thinking. You know? Team S.J.G.R. has really been an inspiration for a lot of us to adopt healthier lifestyles for the right reasons. For more than just sashaying around that high school reunion or college homecoming. We've decided to be transparent about what really matters and what stands in the way of us doing what we need to do.

So we nudge each other. We hold each other accountable with our reports and our posts. And that is totally inspiring. But here's what I've found. There are the big things that inspire us and then there are some little things, too. When it comes to exercise. . . . what can possibly be more inspiring than some good music?  Maaaaan, please. A really good music playlist? Tha's what I'm t'ambout!

Yup.

Matter of fact, I wrote a little top ten about it. Like to hear it? Here it go.

THE TOP TEN JAMS ON MY PLAYLIST THAT INSPIRE ME TO GO HARD WHEN I'M RUNNING OR DOING SOME KIND OF CARDIO WORK OUT

Note:  I could probably listen to every one of these songs over and over again on a thirty minute loop given the mood I'm in. That's a sign of a good playlist jam.

#10  Rock Steady by Aretha Franklin.

"Rock steady, baby
That's what I feel now
Let's call this song exactly what it is.
It's a funky and low down feeling. . .(what it is)
in your hips from left to right. . .(what it is)
What it is is I might be doing. . .this funky dance all night, OH!"

I feel so bad ass when this song is on. I love to listen to this at the very start of my run. It gets me through my first mile with a big smile.

#9  Who Runs the World? Girls! by Beyonce

"My persuasion can build a nation. . ."

As soon as those drums come in and Beyonce starts saying, "WHO RUNS THIS MOTHA? YUP!" I start hauling ass, do you hear me? Ha ha ha. That song plays -- literally -- four times on my play list. Even though it's not a song I like hearing just for G.P. I do like it for running.

"Strong enough to bear the chil'ren . . .and get back to biz'ness!"

Yup.

#8  American Boy by Estelle

 

What is it about this catchy tune? I don't know. It's just a great song for cardio. Especially when Kanye West comes in with his part. I know. I know. He's arrogant and somewhat annoying at times. But he's talented and hypes me up with his riff on this one.

"I'm like Mike at his badddd-dest. Like the Pips with they Gladys."

Ha ha. Yeah. That's the cut, man.

#7  Anything by Rihanna.

I can run to her music all day. No. I'm not necessarily a big fan of HER. But her music? It's all so good for running and working out, man. Specifically:

Love in a Dangerous Place
Diamonds
What's my name?
Only Girl in the World

I have a one and a half hour long playlist with all Ri-Ri. As in Rihanna. (Not to be confused with my Re-Re playlist. As in Aretha Franklin.)

#6  I Feel Like Going On by Bishop Marvin Wayans



I cannot get enough of this song. I cannot. I listened to it probably 30 times per day in November of 2012. And I tell you this song ministered to me in a way that few others could.

Now? I like to run to it. I cry the whole time it's on. But no matter how tired I am or how tall the wall I've hit has become, when I hear this song I feel like going on.

"I don't know how you feel about it but I. . .I feel like. . I feel like going on. Even though trials . . .they come. . . on every, every, every hand. . . .oh. . I feel. . .I feel like going. . .I feel like going on."

#5 How to Save a Life by The Fray



I love this song. Something about it makes me imagine a different story every time I hear it. I love that because I imagine that story while I'm exercising which allows me to zone out.

#4  Tom Ford by Jay Z (The Clean or the Instrumental Version)



That beat is SICK. Once I found this version, I could better enjoy it.

I also like Roc Boys by Jay Z. That song gets me equally hyped. Ha ha ha.

#3  The Best of What's Around by Dave Matthews Band

Us heading to DMB concert last December

 DMB is Will and JoLai's favorite band of all time. Hearing this song always makes me feel so connected to all of my sibs. I used to just like that song. Now it moves me in a different way because now I hear the lyrics. It's a great inspiration when I'm exercising.

"Turns out not where but who you're with
That really matters
And hurts not much when you're around"

I love this song for that line more than any other. Because that? That's a good word.

I could run to it all day.

#2   I Believe I Can Fly by R. Kelly



See, I was on the verge of breaking down
Sometimes silence can seem so loud . . . .

Corny, I know. But this is another song that really inspires me to push it. What could be better than that as a mantra? I believe I can fly? Come on, people.

There are miracles in life I must achieve. 
But first I know it starts inside of me.
If I can see it, then I can do it. 
If I just believe it, there's nothing to it.
I believe I can fly.

#1  GET UP OFFA THAT THANG! by James Brown



Come on. Now you KNEW this would be my number one.

My favorite line?
 
"I'm back! I'm back! I'm back! I'm back! I'm back!"

Because even if I've fallen off of the wagon, hearing that part makes me feel good. I laugh out loud while I say, "I'm back! I'm back!" I have this at the beginning and end of every one of my playlists. Not even kidding.

Plus it hypes me up to groove like J.B. Don't believe me?

Watch me!




Like that. Hee hee.

What music is inspiring you? Share a few jams off of your playlist!

***
Happy Thursday!

Peep my shirt for the Army Ten Miler! This inspires me, too!

The Singing Guy.

"Music makes the people come together."

~ Madonna

As promised--"The Singing Guy"singing his original song "Just Do It For Love." (By the way, he did give his permission for this video of his song to be shared.)

Mom and Sister Moon, the ocean view is for you!

Wow. The world is so full of talented people, isn't it? My friend, Lisa R., just said on her blog the other day: "I love people."  Man. Me, too.

* (Excuse the shaky camera person who may or may not have been under the influence of Jamaican rum.)

***
Do something for love this week. Happy Monday.

Consider this.

MIchael Stipe singing "Losing my religion."

"Consider this

The hint of the century

Consider this

The slip that brought me

To my knees failed

What if all these fantasies

Come flailing around

Now I've said too much

I thought that I heard you laughing

I thought that I heard you sing

I think I thought I saw you try

But that was just a dream

That was just a dream

That's me in the corner

That's me in the spotlight

Losing my religion

Trying to keep up with you

And I don't know if I can do it

Oh no I've said too much

I haven't said enough"

~ from R.E.M.'s "Losing my religion"

_____________________________________

Ahhh.

Oh, how I love this song. So much. It's such a haunting song, you know? I love that the song writer has never really been clear on what it means. Like, is it really literal? Like has something literally made him lose faith? Or rather faith in his Faith? Or how about in someone? A regular someone? A deity? Or none of that at all?

Hmm. 

Yes. I'm of Christian faith. But I still love this song. So much. Mostly because I think it has nothing really to do with organized faith. Or any of those things that the talking heads in the primaries are fighting over. Which interestingly aren't things that intensely matter to me, a person who also happens to be down with Jesus. And even if it is literally about organized religion, so what. It makes me think. And thinking is good. Even for people who are believers in assorted faiths.

Anyways.

I just think it's such a layered song. With such a bold title and hook. That mandolin, that pleading in the vocalist's voice. It punches me in my chest and makes me stop what I'm doing and think. And wonder what it means.

And you know? Every single time I hear this song, I think of a new meaning. That's what makes me love this song so much.

I love things that can have many interpretations. Don't you? Because I think life and people and everything are like that. Open to many interpretations. Changing interpretations, too. Remixes and revisions and redemption, too. Kind of like my take on this song every time I hear it.

Some days I can even relate this song to my writing here. Like, I say to myself after hitting publish: "Oh no, I said too much." Or even, "That's me on the corner. . . .that's me in the spotlight . . . .losing my religion. . ."

Then I will feel a pang of fear. Like I revealed my clay feet or zoomed right in on my Achilles heel for the whole world or rather, world-wide web, to see.

But like Michael Stipe who wrote those words, that hint of fear somehow bolsters my fearlessness. It makes me want to be transparent and to write things that make people think and feel and even come back to read again. For a new take. A new interpretation.

And to be a little more okay with their own clay feet.

Zachary heard this song playing on my computer and came over and sat on my lap. He sat there quietly listening and watching and seemed mesmerized by the mandolin and Stipe's voice. Then when it ended he looked over at me and said, "Can you play it again?"

And I did.

this morning in my kitchen

We sat together and watched that video all over again, too. And he watched the images and asked me questions like, "Do you think that man is an angel?"  And I said, "I don't know. Do you?" And he looked and said, "I think he is. Maybe he is trying to cheer the singing man up."  "Hmm. Do you think he seems sad?" I wanted to know. So he told me his thoughts. "He seems like he lost a friend. And like he feels sad about it." And I looked and watched some more and that little five year-old observation opened me up to yet another interpretation of this song.

Maybe he lost a friend. Or faith in one. Or himself. Or something.

I don't know. I just love this song. And what's cool is that now my five year-old child does, too.

The official video used to be un-embeddable. But hey! For some reason, it can now be embedded. So until someone blocks it, here it is. The original video to "Losing my religion" by R.E.M. that my friend Ms. Moon says is the reason videos were invented.

And I think she is right.



Do you love this song, too? What's your interpretation?

Or better yet.

What other song does this to you? Makes you think and wonder and try to interpret over and over again? Maybe I haven't ever heard it. But I'd love to. I really would.

That's all I've got for now. What you got?

***
Happy Saturday.

Come on, Irene.

As my blog-friend says, "Irene can suck it."

Mother Nature was nice to us in Atlanta this weekend. But that doesn't mean we aren't thinking of and praying for those to whom she hasn't been as kind.
I pray that you and those you love and are worrying about are shielded from any calamity or catastrophe that this hurricane is trying to bring. And if for some chance they or you are affected, may the recovery be swift, the assistance be abundant, and the resources be great.

Amen.

***
Insert "Irene" for every place that Dexy's Midnight Runners says "Eileen." I admit I still have no idea what this song is about. But it works for this situation. . . .

Top Ten: My Mental iPod

A quote from myself on this blog once:

"Shouldn't life, when lived to the fullest, have a soundtrack to go with it?"



Someone who reads this blog once asked me this:

"How much memory do you have on that mental iPod of yours?"

The answer: "Unlimited capacity."

Because it's true. There is no limit to what might get added to my mental iPod and absolutely no telling what is playing on it at a given time. That sucker is constantly on "shuffle."

I love my mental iPod. Usually I just close my eyes and hear the song in my head, but now what's extra cool is that since the invention of YouTube, I can actually hear the song I'm thinking of with the click of a mouse (instead of some reciprocating loop with eight bars of the wrong lyrics.)

Hold up.

I wouldn't necessarily call myself a music connoisseur or anything. In fact, my real iTunes library is pretty darn mediocre. Aaaahh, but my mental iTunes collection? Fuggeddaboudit. It's bangin'. And let me tell you--it's got something for every mood and everybody.

The thing with music and me is this--I don't limit myself to any genre. I simply like what I like. I just like listening to lyrics and melodies for meaning in them. Sometimes a song will remind me of a person. . . or a time. . . or an experience. Just like the sense of smell, the right song can put me exactly where I was at a particular time, and swing my pendulum from LOL-smiley faces all the way to boo-hoo crying in less than sixty four counts.

This week's top ten is dedicated to my mental iPod. Here are ten things from my "playlist" this week. . . . oh, and thanks to YouTube, my mental iPod now has video. Does that make it a mental iPad? Or a would it be an iPod Touch? Hmmmmm.

Anywho. Step inside my head why don't you?

TOP TEN: MENTAL iPOD PLAYLIST THIS WEEK

#10 The Dave Matthews Band - The Space Between



My brother, Will, and younger sister, JoLai, could possibly be two of the biggest "DMB" fans ever. This makes me a Dave Matthews fan by genetic association, albeit not one of fanatical proportions. Anyways. I do love Dave M.'s throaty voice and amazing control of its inflections. I also love this particular song.

Here is a confession--in ninety percent of Dave Matthews' music, I have absolutely no idea what the lyrics mean. Now this could have everything to do with me and my questionable musical gene and nothing at all to do with him. However. From the moment I first heard this song, I got it.

The video is beautiful. The song even more beautiful. It's about unconditional love, redemption, and loving each other through everything. All of the things that are always in the "space between" us and the people we love.

#9 Positive K - I Got A Man



I was at my sister's birthday party in L.A. last week and ran into someone that I hadn't seen in forever--a guy I knew from elementary and middle school. Anyways, I "OMG"'d and gave him a big hug when I saw him because it was a total blast from the past. Right after that, this woman steps in front of me in the most exaggerated way ever, puts her hand out to me and says, "Uuuuuhhh, hello. I'm MRS. Dude-from-elementary-school."

I looked at her like, You cannot be serious. 0_o

From that point forward, every time I saw her walking around the party I wanted to say, "I GOT A MAN!"

And yes. I would be remiss if I did not point out two things. The first is that my fellow Grady doctor, Neil W., loves this song and sings it often (even in 2011.) The second is that technically the context of the song is a dude hitting on women who have boyfriends, and not crazy-ish women who don't want you hugging on their husbands that you haven't seen since sixth grade. . . . .but so what.

"I'm MRS. Dude-that-you-haven't-seen-since-fifth-grade!"

0_o

Um, yeah. . . whatev.

# 8 Sting -- Sister Moon



There's this funny thing about blogging. People come and "visit" you and then you return the favor. After a while, you look up and you have this collection of porches that you feel welcomed to come and sit on even though you technically don't "know" each other to be sitting on each others' porches.

One of my favorite porches belongs to Ms. Moon, the author of a blog called Bless Our Hearts. Ms. Moon writes about anything and everything. She's spunky, opinionated, fiercely loyal to her loved ones, and honestly? Just a whole bunch of fun. She drops f-bombs whenever and wherever she damn well pleases and keeps it real-er than real.

I love her blog because we have nothing in common yet everything in common. I'm a black woman with young kids and she's a white woman with a grandson and adult children. I'm a faithful member of a Christian church who prays regularly and she's the high priestess of the (her quote) "Church of the Batshit Crazy" who describes herself as "not religious at all." I have anything but a green thumb and am terrified of just about anything that isn't a well-behaved human or a highly domesticated pet. She, on the other hand, could whip up a Sunday supper with the weeds in your back yard and the dandelions popping out around your mailbox. . .and one day she went LOOKING for what she thought was a mouse in a closet. (Awww HELLL Naaww!)

But.

We both love our husbands and think they hung the moon. We celebrate our families and friends so much it's nauseating--and we don't care. We both hate injustice and can laugh out loud at ourselves and our quirks. We both love us some good music and know exactly how to savor the perfection of the most ordinary time spent with extraordinary people. We respect people and take interest in who they are--even when the "who they are" is incredibly different than who we are, which is pretty cool. And. She makes Key Lime Pie and I love Key Lime Pie -- which means she is welcome on my porch any time.

Anyways.


Now that our blogs have intersected and made us "friends"--I have taken the liberty of calling Ms. Moon "Sister Moon." Kind of a convoluted way to get to why this song has been on my mental iPod, I know. So, yeah. When I read her blog, I hear this song. Not because of any deep lyric in it or anything. It's simply because I really like that song and it makes me happy when I hear it. Kind of like I feel when I'm hanging out on Sister Moon's porch.

And that's just one porch. (Some of my other favorite ones can be found to your right.)

#7 Mariah Carey -- Always Be My Baby



Zachary and I always sing this song together. All the time, ever since he was on my hip. Even though Mariah Carey has the Grammys and that crazy range, he tells me that he likes when I sing it better than "the real one." Imagine that. Let's be clear--I cannot sing. At all. But isn't it beautiful that he thinks that? And isn't it beautiful that I sing anyway?

Most of you already know from this blog that the kids recently spent a month in Los Angeles with my dad at "Camp Papa." When I finally saw them again, they looked so much bigger. But especially Zachary. His language was clearer and his toddler belly had virtually disappeared altogether. He hugged me in a "big boy" way instead of leaping into my arms in that "baby boy" way. I picked him up any way and felt sad when I caught a glimpse of how long his legs were against my body in a nearby mirror. He's not a baby anymore.

"You're not a baby any more!" I said with a playful (yet serious) pout. "What happen to Mommy's baby?"

Do you know what he said? Do you? Sigh. He grabbed my face with both hands and smiled in that Zachary way. . . .and started singing to me. . .

"You'll always be a part'a meeeee! I'm parta you a-defana-leeeee! No way ya eva gonna shake me! Oooo darlin' 'cause I'll always be ya babeeeeeeee!"

Then he kissed me and hugged me hard.

Yes. He will always be my baby.

#6 Gospel Music




I love gospel music. It uplifts me, it inspires me, and it speaks to me on so many levels. Part of me believes that that the souls of black folks past and present can always be found inside of gospel music. The creativity of it, the longing in it, the celebration in it, and the history behind it makes me so proud of where I came from.

Every single day when I am at Grady or driving near Grady, I hear a voice wailing these words out in my head:


"It could've been me
Outdoors with no food and no clothes
All left alone without a friend
Or just another number with a tragic end. . ."

I love this totally impromptu rendition of Walter Hawkins' classic "Thank You."


Gospel music. Isn't it wonderfully spontaneous? It's almost like the very best songs involve "freestyles" and ad libs that can only be found in this genre.

And what's cool about sho nuff gospel music? Regardless of who you are and what you do or don't believe, you can't help but feel moved by it when you hear it.



I especially love this song -- "This is the Day" as performed by Fred Hammond. I hear this version of this gospel song in my head at some point every single day. Sometimes I will play it on my real iPod, but mostly I play it on my mental one. My favorite part is the break that says:


"When I look back over all the years that I made it through
I can't imagine where I'd be now, if it wasn't for You. . ."

No matter what is going on with me, this song can put it all into perspective. In fact, most gospel music does that for me.



#5 -- Special Ed -- I Got It Made



This is one of those songs that was insanely popular in my freshman year of college. I'm not sure if it was as "insanely popular" wherever you were in 1989, but let me tell you--anyone who attended a historically black college between the years of 1988 and 1990 can recite the majority of the lyrics to this song.

Case in point: Harry and I were cleaning up one day and he had the TV on some kind of hip hop video channel. We were in the middle of what I recall to be a fairly deep conversation . . . .that is until this song came on. Dude. We sang E-VER-Y word. We pointed in each others' faces, did our very best Bobby Brown old-school dance moves, and mean-mugged one another while laughing our heads off. There were probably six or seven words that we didn't know--that's it.

Damn, it was romantic. Sigh.


#4 AC/DC -- Back in Black



I feel automatically "bad ass" when playing this on my mental iPod. You should try listening to this before doing anything you're nervous about. It totally does the trick and gives you all kinds of chutzpah.

A black lady rocking out to AC/DC, you say?

Look--I don't care who you are. This is just the jam. If you can sit still while listening to this, you are either dead or just completely lame. (You should see my kids when they hear it.)

Nuff said.

#3 Rock Steady -- Aretha Franklin, The Whispers, and No Doubt



All three of these versions played on my mental iPod this week. Aretha's version gets top billing because it's one of my anthems. The Whispers version is just soulful and makes me think of all of the groups from that era like The O'jays and Lakeside. No Doubt's version is just crazysexycool, and reminds me of how I pretty much wanted to be Gwen Stefani back when the song was in radio rotation. (Okay, I DO still get way too hyped and I admit that I not-so-secretly morph into Gwen every time I hear "I'm Just a Girl.")

That's really me and my co-interns when I lived in Cleveland and didn't get much sun.

No Doubt's version also reminds me a lot of how I feel about being with Harry. Rock steady, man.

But still. Aretha's version wins.

#2 James Taylor -- Anything and everything.

But this one is my absolute favorite of all time. I sing this song with my kids just about every single night. Kind of morose. . . but hauntingly beautiful to me. Especially from the mouths of babes. . . .



Good heavens, I love this song. For so many reasons. . . .but mostly because it reminds me of love.

#1 Jill Scott -- Golden




"I be high-steppin', y'all. . . . .letting the joy unfold. . . .I'm living my life like it's golden. . ."

This is song is my personal anthem. I hear it in my head constantly. I can barely even watch the video without crying . . . hard. I'm not really sure why that is either. Something about her confidence as she sings it, her genuine smile, the way she looks at people so lovingly. . . . like she knows something. . . .and then her voice, the upbeat tempo. . . . all of it together. . . moves me in the deepest parts of my soul. Every word. Almost like she penned that song just for me. Listen to this song and you will get me. . . .you really will.

Especially the line that says


"I'm strumming my own freedom playing the God in me
Representing his glory hope he's proud of me. . . "

Because that describes me. It does. How I feel, who I want to be, who I try to be. . .as a mother, as a wife, as a daughter, as a sister, as a friend, as a physician, as an educator and as a human being. I want to live my life like it's golden. I really, really do.

Hmmm. So I guess now I do understand why hearing those lines makes me cry. Perhaps the tears are a sign of a good anthem.

"I'm living my life like it's golden . .
It really matters to me. . . ."


Hope your life is golden, too.

***
Now. Think about your mental iPod this week and let it inspire you. Add some new jams to it and don't be afraid of trying something new or really old. . . . .and stop back by my porch and let me know what you're rocking out to. Because I really do want to know.

Happy Saturday Night.