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“I’m pregnant and I know it!”

The movie Pitch Perfect, which spawned the “Cups” phenomenon, is hysterical. Yet, I don’t think it’s something that my kids should watch.MV5BMTcyMTMzNzE5N15BMl5BanBnXkFtZTcwNzg5NjM5Nw@@._V1_ But they did, at a family party this summer with their cousins. No big deal. They watched it again with the babysitter a few weeks ago. She asked if they were allowed, and they said sure, they had already seen it. Since then, they are obsessed with it. They love Fat Amy, and they come home from school and put on song clips from YouTube. As far as I’m concerned, what’s done is done.  Now, the three of us can be found in various states of a cappella singing parts of the “Since You’ve Been Gone” audition scene. Hayden loves to mimic Amy fixing her boobs before she belts out her line. I can’t help but laugh.

It’s a weird world to navigate. The whole concept of sex, and curse words, and innuendo. Truthfully, I’m more offended by some of the exploitation on The Disney Channel than the stuff found in movies like Pitch Perfect. But it’s made for some interesting conversation. Like: “Guys, you can’t pretend to have boobs and adjust them”; or “No, you can’t watch the scene where they sing songs about sex”; or “Now, just cause they say these words in a movie, doesn’t mean you’re allowed to say them.” The funny thing is, I’m an English teacher. I love words. I do not want to back down from a conversation about words. And I don’t.

Yesterday, we were watching a clip from the movie, and Amy says the word “bitch”. I say, “You know we can’t say that word, right?” Owen says, “pitch”?  “No, the B word.” “What’s the B word?” asks Hayden. “It rhymes with pitch,” I say. “Bitch!” Owen says excitedly. “Yeah, but spell it, don’t say it,” I instruct. “B-I-T-C-H,” he replies. “You don’t have to spell it (correctly, I might add) now,” I say. They giggle.

As a child, I was terrified of being heard saying a curse word. I would not ask my parents what a word meant, and thought every bad word I uttered was one step closer to H-E-double hockey sticks. But it’s cool being on this side of things. Knowing that I am the gatekeeper for knowledge when it comes to curse words, and sex, and life. I am not foolish enough to think that they won’t find some (hopefully not most) of their education in the schoolyard, on the bus, or the internet, but I do plan on being a voice in the fray. Now, I marvel at their naiveté. I smile at their innocence. And I cringe a little at how to approach their inquiries.

Take today. We are in the woods walking the dogs, and Hayden starts quoting lines from Pitch Perfect. “Dad, I love the part when Fat Amy says [pause]. Now, I’m going to say ‘beach’ even though it’s the other B word, okay?” “Okay,” I say. He delivers the line. Owen pipes in, “What does the B word even mean?” “It’s so stupid,” I say. “It means ‘a female dog‘.” We all look at our little black Lab, Rosie, and laugh. “Language is strange, guys. The world decides that certain words are wrong or bad, and it’s important to know that if you say them, you will get in trouble, or people will look down on you. If you called someone a female dog, they would look at you and think you were weird. But if you call someone a bitch you’d get punished. Most curses are words that we have other words for. Ask me some?” They oblige.

“The s-h- word means poop, right?” Owen asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “You can say poop and no one cares, but if you say S-H-I-T you’re in trouble.”

“But crap means poop, too.” Hayden says, trying to reassure himself.

“Yep. And we don’t say that.” I love that they think crap is a curse word. The other day, my friend dropped his son off to play with the boys. As he was leaving, Hayden came out to the driveway and said, “Mr. Bill, Thomas just said the C word.” We both looked at each other wide-eyed. “What’s the C word, Hayden?” he asked. “C-R-A-P,” he spells. Relieved, I say, “Tell him not to say it–you don’t need to run and tell us.” Phew–I was not ready for that conversation.

The boys are now excited about our discussion. Owen says, “Well, what about F-U-C-K?” I’m sad that he’s heard this word–even if he’s just heard it spelled, which I doubt–but I do have to admit it is very cute when he spells it. Oh, boy, I think. I’m searching for words. “It means sex,” I say. (I decide to save the conversation about Fornication Under Control of the King or For Unlawful Carnal Knowledge for another walk.) “You mean pregnant?” Owen asks. “Yeah,” I say slowly, contemplating how far I want to go, and also unsure how he connected the two. “So, Mommy was sexed?” Hayden asks. “Um-hmm,” I say, stifling my laughter. “Mommy was sexed!” Owen says. They crack up laughing. I try to keep the educational tenor of the conversation. “And I don’t really like that so many songs mention sex, and you guys go around singing the word sexy. Like from that song, ‘I’m Sexy and I Know It’.” They are jumping with excitement. This topic has made them more playful than our puppies a few yards ahead. Hayden revs up to do one of his dance moves. He leaps in the air, lands with arms outstretched, then he belts out, in tune, “I’m pregnant and I know it.”

That’s enough sex talk for one day.

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The Sounds of the ’70s

My car became a time machine last week. On Wednesday, when I was driving to work, I heard a news clip on NPR about the death of singer Patti Page. I was not familiar with this artist, who, apparently, is the top-selling female singer in history according to the news. But I did grow up with one of her songs: How Much Is That Doggie in the Window? When a snippet of that song was played on the news report, I was immediately transported back in time to our purple station wagon. Or maybe it was the Gran Torino with the panel sides. Whichever car it was, those lyrics echoed throughout its vinyl seat interior. My sister loved that song, and would often sing it around the house, while playing outside, and, of course, in the car. Truthfully, I thought it was pretty annoying as a six-year-old, but I would tolerate it because she always let me do the dog bark: “Arf, Arf!”

Hearing these lyrics over thirty years later, I got to thinking about the songs that made up the bizarre soundtrack of my youth. The songs I recall are as farout, groovy, and downright trippy as the seventies themselves. Here are my top ten:

10. One Tin Soldier, by: Coven

I loved how this song took me back in time to a place of kings and knights. I always imagined that I was that one tin soldier who rides away–off to do more battle. In researching the song for this post, I realize why we went around singing it back then. It was a cartoon that was aired during Saturday programming. As I watched the YouTube video, I was certain that I viewed this cartoon in our Rec Room (which I always thought was spelled WReck Room because we always made a mess out of it). The cartoon is a mashup of Schoolhouse Rock and George Orwell’s 1984. This was the first war song I remember from my youth.

9. Lovin’ You, by: Minnie Riperton

This song was weird to kids, but we always had fun lip syncing the falsetto.

8. Dick and Jane (Look Dick Look), by: Bobby Vinton

My grandmother was a big fan of the Polish Prince, Bobby Vinton. I remember going around singing some gibberish for one of his songs with Polish lyrics: Yola shogga masha colta–these were the words I sang. But the real favorite was this one about two young people and love–ripped straight from the pages of our elementary school readers, Fun with Dick and Jane. This song made me ponder the meaning of the word “vain” every time I heard it (Then one day, he kissed her, but it was all in vain…) Poor Dick! Poor Jane!

7. Delta Dawn, by: Helen Reddy

Helen Reddy could rock this song–even though in this video she looks like she’s performing it at her 7th grade talent show. Everyone knew the lyrics to Delta Dawn. And I felt so sorry for her. Forty-one and not married. In my head, I would think “I’d marry you if I was older.” After all, in her younger days she was the prettiest thing you ever saw. Then there’s that faded rose–I could just picture Dawn and Barry Manilow’s Lola the showgirl commiserating with their faded rose and feathers over lost love at some singles’ bar in that mansion in the sky.

6. Muskrat Love, by: The Captain and Tennille

For anyone who did not live in the ’70s, please watch this video. It was a time so weird, so freakishly fun and uncomfortable at the same time. The video is classic kitsch from this wacky era. How could The Captain and Tennille make so many people care about rodent love? How could The Captain score a babe like Tennille? These are questions that still haunt me today.

5. Please Come to Boston, by: Dave Loggins

This song is in my top 10 because my brother and I would sing it all the time walking to and from football practice in grade school. But since we didn’t know the real lyrics, we made up our own: “Please come to Boston/ with me and Steve Austin (The 6 million dollar man)/ and we’ll have a party/ something something fart something.”

4. Dust in the Wind, by: Kansas

Even a straight-laced fifth grader wearing a tie to Catholic school everyday knew this song was about drugs. The lyrics were haunting and heavenly at the same time. I put it in my list because I remember driving home from a Saturday football game with my older brother’s friends and the mom who drove us sang this song like it was her job. Mrs. “H” was a large woman, and she could be rough and intimidating. She wore t-shirts that had cute animals on them that said things like: “I’m so happy I could shit!” Yet, when she sang Dust in the Wind she was as light as a feather, as gentle as a songbird…To this day, whenever I hear it, I think of Mrs. H.

3. Undercover Angel, by: Alan O’Day

I remember hearing this song while piled in the way back of our station wagon on the way to a pool party. There were 4 of us crammed in the back, and one guy started doing some inappropriate gestures in time with the lyrics–pretending his swim towel was a cover and motioning the angel to get underneath it. I had a confused look on my nine-year-old face. “The guy wants to have sex with this lady in the song,” he explained to me. I was shocked. What kind of angel was she? We’re all going to Hell, I thought. But it made me pay more attention to lyrics from then on.

2. Playground In My Mind, by: Clint Holmes

This song holds a special place for me because the beginning talks about a kid named Michael and a girl named Cindy who grow up and get married. It felt cool having my name in a song–a song that made it to number 2 on the Billboard Charts, believe it or not. And, the girl next door was named Cindy and we would go around singing the words and joke about getting married.

1. Seasons in the Sun, by: Terry Jacks

What a maudlin song. It captivated our minds in the ’70s as we went around on our roller skates and Schwinn bikes singing about death. I loved how this guy got to say “Goodbye” to people before he died (That’s my mother’s influence on me). I remember listening to this in a neighbor’s basement, and we all just started bawling. Such melodrama, but remember this was pre-cable TV, so we had to get our kicks wherever we could find them. Quick note–I hate the last line of this song–it’s silly: But the stars that we reached, were just starfish on the beach. Bad imagery. But not as bad as Jacks’ perm.

Honorable Mention:

Three Jolly Fishermen

This classic Boy Scout song is not one that I heard on the radio, but my family used to sing it on the ten minute drive to my grandmother’s house. What I loved about this song was we all got to curse. The last line talks about the three fishermen going down the AmsterDAM: AMster, Amster, dam, dam ,dam. Oh, how we screamed that part:)