Monday, November 23, 2009


I don’t like music.

Well, maybe that is probably too harsh of a statement. Music makes me nervous.

I rarely listen to music anymore. I used to, a lot. When I was a kid, or to be more accurate a teenager I can remember my father telling me to turn down the music, of course, he had to tell me over the top of the music I was listening to at the time, so he told me very loudly to “TURN DOWN THAT MUSIC!”

But even when I was a teenager, I was a bit different, preferring to listen to the bagpipe record my grandmother brought from Scotland to the Beatles, the record Mom got me one birthday of the 1900 ditties to the Rolling Stones. I like simple songs and music. The movies I pick out to watch are generally musicals. If Ray and I go to a play it is usually a musical and we will spend the next few days singing the songs around the house. I like jazz from the 20’s and 30’s but hate the jazz of today, I see it as sharp lightening bolts of colored pain. I love the old Negro ballads of yester year, but can’t stand the rap of today’s music. I love the country western songs of the pre 60’s or 70’s era, but will only listen to the current country western songs on the radio for a short time for short jaunts around town, usually preferring to listen to an audio book or nothing rather than music. I can not listen to music while I read. On several people’s blogs or their My Space accounts they have picked out several songs that mean something to them and put the songs on the sites to enhance it. I cannot listen to the music and read what they have written. I mute it. At work while I type I listen to audio books.

Several years ago at church the Bishop called me in to offer a calling to me. Relief Society Chorister. I laughed, and continued laughing. Ray, said nothing. The bishop looked at me for quite some time, concern blooming on his face. I laughed harder. The concerned look increased and he glanced from me to Ray, wondering, I am sure, if he should call the men with the white coat to come get me. Finally I was able to stop laughing long enough to explain to him that I just didn’t like music. I don’t listen to music, I don’t play music, I don’t sing. Nothing. I don’t like music. I also had to explain to him I had been thinking of our old chorister in our ward in Denver when I was a kid and had known that I would be getting this calling. Now was his turn to look shocked, since I accepted the calling. One would think that getting up in front of a group of women to lead music would not be that hard. It was one of the most difficult things I have ever done. I lead the music for about a year, and finally released to do another calling I liked much better, planning the ward parties. Did I mention I don’t like parties either?


Leslie said...

After you tell us you hate music you begin to tell us about the music you do like. You don't hate music, you just like simple tunes.

Secondly, how the heck did you end up not liking music in our family? So much of our childhood was built around the car, at holidays, patriotic songs, Mom's playing piano (by ear), Dad's Argonaise, Rustic Dance, and the March of the Wooden Soldiers.

It's so funny how things so important to one person doesn't have the same value to another. I grew up in the same household you did with a very capable mother who cooked, sewed, and all sorts of other housewively things, and I don't do do. Interesting isn't it?

I LOVE MUSIC! But you know that. I LOVE YOU TOO! Glad to see you blogging.

Marque and Sarah said...

You are funny.

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