Ode to Barry

On June 17th, Barry Manilow will turn 67 years old. A week and a half ago, on June 6th, I won Ultimate Manilow at a birthday party. I did nothing to win this great cd. I won by sheer enthusiasm for an artist that embedded a memory in my mind.

When I was 4 years old, my mom, dad, and I lived in Lakeland, Florida. I have distinct memories of singing "Copacabana" with my mom in a convertible. The song tells the story of Lola in a tangled love affair. "Music and passion were always the fashion at the Copacobana." The song reaches a ridiculously fabulous crescendo at the chorus, at which point, mama and I would shriek "Copa! Copacabana!" over and over again. The notes were impossible to hit unless we shrieked, so we crescendoed with the best of them. The song ends with Manilow warning all his hearers, "Don't fall in love."

My 4 year old mind loved the yellow-feathered Lola, mourned the death of her love, and delighted in the abandon mama and I would sing with. Winning the Ultimate Manilow cd brought this memory back with such fondness, so I naturally shared this with my mom later on in the week. She informed me that we never owned a convertible. No, we always had an old Monte Carlo. I knew this. So where did I concoct the convertible memory from? Well, according to my mom, that summer we had some car trouble and had to roll the windows down to keep from inhaling gas fumes that were pumping through the car's a.c. vents. Her solution? Windows down meant time for some Barry.

So, this week, happy birthday to you, Mr. Manilow. While some may call your music mediocre and saccharine sweet, I call it the stuff 4 year old memories are made of. And thank you, mama, for imprinting me with your love for music, childlike abandon, and Barry, of course.

This is the only photo I had that is close to me at 4 years old. I'm on the far left, hanging out with my cousins. :)