I’m not afraid to admit it… I’ve become a complete mushball. I’ve never really aspired toward any macho malarkey that some boys my age seem to need. If anything, I’ve become more sensitive with age for some reason. Maybe because I’ve become pretty comfortable in my own skin.<\/p>\n
Heart rending scenes in the movies or on TV make me all gooshy inside. One of my favorite gooshy moments comes at the end of the 1951 movie \u201cScrooge;\u201d in which Alistair Sim (who plays Ebenezer) wakes up on Christmas morning and turns over a new leaf. Reminds me of some \u201cfun\u201d I had while growing up. Mind you, growing up took me a little over 35 years… I was a late bloomer. At the end of the movie, when Scrooge realizes that he can <\/b><\/i>start again; and celebrates <\/b><\/i>it, well I just get a big fat case of the weepenheimers.<\/p>\n
And then there’s music. Talk about a complete tear jerking mechanism!! Not so much when I hear songs on the radio (although I get mooshy even then), but if I happen to listen to someone perform an old favorite, it can trigger something warm and fuzzy way deep inside.<\/p>\n
Dunno about you, but when I was very small, home life was \u201cinteresting.\u201d Music became a gateway to escape the not-so-happy activities that too often sprang up at Dysfunction Junction (our house). This escape mechanism was welcomed into my heart when I was 8 years old. That’s when the miracle happened: Grandma gave me an 8-transistor radio.\u00a0 Little did I know that Someone Upstairs was working through Grandma to help my spirit heal.<\/p>\n
That was way back in 1962, when Dinosaurs sold gasoline on TV (anyone remember Sinclair gasoline?). Of course I gravitated toward the popular music, and this was a time when you could actually understand what the words were. Even better, you could sing the tunes in public with no danger of being a potty mouth! Lots of awesome music hit the airwaves in those days; and it really helped many like me get through tough times. So strong was the effect on my spirit, these days when I hear and then start singing an old favorite, my eyes start leaking.<\/p>\n
Sheesh… did I mention I’m a mushball??<\/p>\n
Yes, just call me Kenny the Crybaby. I don’t mind, I can take it.\u00a0 Often the waterworks will commence to flow completely by surprise.\u00a0\u00a0 An example:\u00a0 my Beautiful Girlfriend and I were privileged to see The Who in concert back in 2017.\u00a0 They were simply fantastic.\u00a0\u00a0<\/strong><\/em>I don’t think they finished the first song without my tears streaming down my face!!\u00a0 Another instance where their music helped me through tough times while I was a kid.\u00a0 I just didn’t know how\u00a0much<\/strong><\/em>\u00a0<\/em>they helped!! \u00a0<\/p>\n Many of the the musicians of the Baby Boomer generation left the planet way too early; whether from alcohol or other drugs; family disputes, or tragic accidents.\u00a0 And of course, now that we’re all getting up in years, those who managed to stick around are slowly diminishing in number.\u00a0 And yes, when I heard about the passing of David Crosby this past Wednesday, I did the mushball thing again.\u00a0<\/p>\n I cried.<\/p>\n So there you go. My confession is complete: even though I can be a pretty strong person when necessary (I think, maybe), there’s a part of me who’s not at all afraid to cry for happy. My professional opinion is there’s nothing wrong with that… if you don’t believe me, just ask me some time.<\/p>\n So here are some samples of the tunes that touch my head or my heart (or both).\u00a0 Some for fun, some for reflection, some about love…\u00a0\u00a0 Hope you enjoy.<\/p>\n