Over a decade ago, 92.7 FM was Easy Listening on my local dial. I had just moved here, no longer had a job that paid me money, and soon after, had my son. I wanted to fill some of the silence in the house that was double the size of our apartment back in Pennsylvania. So I listened. A lot.
One day as I was driving us somewhere or other (in my very first ever new car, the Caravan we got a year after my son was born and which gave me the freedom to get out of the house during the day without having to drive my husband to work or pick him up at the end of the day because goodness knows we had not moved to the nerve center of public transportation), my son, not yet two and buckled safely in his car seat behind me, said very distinctly and with a lilt in his voice, "Izzy-nahly-to-ma-sahly." He said it again when I asked him to repeat it. And again just one more time for Mommy, please.
I really didn't know what he was saying, and I'm pretty sure he knew it. As soon as the radio station had its next break, my son again said, "Izzy-nahly-to-ma-sahly," only this time he said it in time to the station's jingle: "Easy Ninety-Two Point Seven."
Easy ninety-two point seven
(There are some things that in glorious 20/20 hindsight just scream Asperger's.)
I was reminded of this tonight as my daughter and I went through the lyrics of a song she wanted me to download for her. (She's 10; we preview just about everything.) She wanted "Your Love Is My Drug," which could be innocent enough. I called it up on YouTube; the opening scene raised my eyebrows. My daughter immediately said that she didn't want the video, just the song, so I called up the lyrics. We went through them line by line. I matter-of-factly explained the meaning of such terms as rehab, strung out, obsessive love, and crackhead, plus the meanings of the phrases Won't listen to any advice/Momma's telling me I should think twice/Better left to my own devices/I'm addicted, it's a crisis and My judgment's getting kinda hazy. All of this Because your love, your love, your love is my drug. I didn't have to tell her no; she told me.
The song, though, brought to mind one of the catchy songs I used to listen to on Easy 92.7:
As I listened to it again on YouTube, I wasn't sure I wanted my 10-year-old to download it, either, especially after I read one comment that said, Kisses + wine + sex = children. I don't want to glorify drug culture or alcohol. But the song feels so innocent. Then I read another comment: Kisses + wine + MARRIAGE + sex = children. It's a bit of a moot point anyway as my daughter runs screaming from the room when I sing or play "an oldies song."
Side Note: Easy 92.7 became a Latin music station soon after my daughter was born. No more Burl Ives, no more long-haired freaky people, no more Harry Belafonte. Sigh...