SquawkRadio

You know how they say that certain smells bring back memories?  Well, I guess that’s true, but except for Kouros cologne and an old flame, and gasoline and the way my best friend and I used to take the cap off and sniff the gas in my dad’s restored Model –T (I so didn’t just admit that!), I don’t have a lot of smelly memories.

What I do have are pop culture memories.

My dad traveled a lot when my parents were married.  I don’t actually have a lot of memories of him around the house before their divorce when I was seven.  The strongest memories, however, are of sitting on the steps to our sunken living room (this was the seventies, after all) and watching Adam-12.  “One Adam-12.  One Adam-12, see the man ...” Hear that, and bingo.  I think of my dad.

My mom, I have lots of memories of.  But the earliest ones?  Not warm, soft cuddly moments.  No, my really, really, really early memories are sitting at the kitchen table with my mom while she fished around in the cereal for the prize inside for me.  The giveaway generation, that was me (and those glass piggy banks from the bank!  And glasses from the gas station!  Now, ya get bupkiss.  It’s a sad world ...)

Let’s see, what else?  Charlie’s Angels – junior high.  My first boyfriend.  Playing with Kathy and Cindy behind the four-plex until our moms begged us to come in and do homework. 

Olivia Newton John – Xanadu.  Roller skating rinks.  Leg warmers.  The ELO concert Gena dragged me too.  And that guy Trey she sooooo had a crush on.

I Dream of Jeannie – flea market shopping with my mom.  (I was forever looking for the bottle that held the genie).

The Rocky Horror Picture Show – who doesn’t have visceral memories of that movie?

Monty Python & The Holy Grail – going to the movies with my stepbrother.  Not really getting all of it, but loving, loving, loving (and still loving) the Moose comments.  The thrill of riding in Travis’ Fiat.  The memory of CBs and even his best friend’s handle, The Green Hornet. 

And, of course, there’s triggers with Fantasy Island, Star Wars, and the Ice Capades.

Ah, memories....

So I was sitting here thinking about the memories my kids would tie to pop culture.  For the most part, they’re still in retroland (my 5yo LOVES The Challenge of the Superfriends and the old Max Fleischer Superman cartoons.  Not to mention Scooby-Doo.)

But there is one show that we watch as a family.  That’s right.  American Idol.  We’ve been watching since the Fantasia season (there’s a memory!  Talking on the phone with my agent during AI because it’s early in LA and we’ve just heard about the movie deal), and Catherine has loved the show from the get go.  It’s “the singing people” and she created her own judging system.  So move over, Simon. 

Here’s the way it works:  Thumbs up, good.  Thumbs down, bad.  Thumbs sideways, really good.  Thumbs round and round?  Way, way, way beyond belief amazing.  This system now works for all things in life, not just the singing people.

Isabella Chenchen is getting into the groove, too. She’s our little dancer, the gal who runs in from the other room to dance to the opening and closing music of As Time Goes By or the episodes of Bewitched we watch with the kids on Sundays.  So AI is her kind of show.

Neither of the girls would cast their vote for Sanjaya, who pulls thumbs-down from Catherine consistently.  Neither liked The Hair.  And, frankly, Don and I don’t much care for the poor boy, either.  (I’m rooting for Melinda.)

Last week, for reasons I still don’t understand, when he came on, Don said “Sanjaya!” in a low evil-gnome sort of voice.  This amused Catherine no end, and she started bounding around the living room copying the evil-gnome voice.  “Sanjaya! Sanjaya!” Soon, Chenchen got into the act, too.  And now, from out of nowhere, they’ll start with the Sanjaya gnome voice.

The other day, in fact, we were in the car, and I asked Don if a song on the radio was Carrie Underwood.  Apparently Catherine’s been paying attention, because the AI synapses fired, and the “Sanjaya!” fest began.  And trust me, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried to cut across three lanes of traffic to your exit with hoarse Sanjaya stage whispers bellowed in the backseat!

Because I thought this was too cute (not to mention weird) to not save for posterity, I made a video.  Check it out.  My kids, bouncing on the bed and doing the Sanjaya Boogie (in their excitement at performing, the evil quality has somewhat diminished).  (Also for the record, the floor in the bedroom is out of commission for 72 hours as the stain/sealer on the newly exposed concrete cures.  We don’t usually have a bed in the living room.)

So there you go.  I have my memories.  My kids will have theirs.  I think theirs are pretty weird.  But considering mine are filled with Charlie’s Angels and Xanadu, I’m really not one to talk.