Oldies

Me, age 41
Caroline, age 12
Jane, age 12

One of the more distressing aspects of my daughters growing up is that they now take turns sitting in the front seat of the car while I drive. Sometimes it’s nice having them next to me – except when it comes to the radio.

It is almost comical how they flip through station after station – repeatedly, relentlessly – until they find an acceptable song to listen to. I try to pick my battles with them; this is one I have given up, but it drives me crazy. 

I wish they would land on a decent station and just stick with it, but they press that evil little “seek” button with all their might, hurtling their way through a jumble of static and commercials and obnoxious DJs, assaulting me with an annoying amount of noise pollution. But I’m even more bothered by the fact that I cannot seem to figure out what, to them, constitutes a suitable song. Based on their past preferences, I’ve tried to come up with some sort of algorithm to help me determine what they like/don’t like so I can anticipate their next move (Will they keep the station on Adele’s “Hello” or should I gear up for a switch?), but the only data I’ve collected consists of the following:

• They used to like Justin Bieber, but now he is intolerable. (Which is a shame because I think his new song, “Sorry,” is super catchy.)
• Taylor Swift is a huge no.
• Selena Gomez is a maybe.
• Thumbs up to Ellie Goulding, Sia, The Weeknd, and Demi Lovato.
• All of the above statements are subject to change without notice.   

As if this isn’t maddening enough, there’s more: depending on the day, my daughters aren’t always in agreement with each other about what is cool/not cool to listen to. For example, this is a typical exchange between Daughter in Front Seat and Daughter in Back Seat:

Daughter in Back Seat (clearly frustrated by inability to hover over the “seek” button as evidenced by indignant sighing): “Can you turn the station? I hate this song.”    

Daughter in Front Seat (clearly relishing having control of the radio as evidenced by smug look on face): “I like this song. Wait until you’re in the front seat and then you can listen to whatever you want.”

And so on. All while I long to be alone in my car, listening to the soothing voices of NPR.

Notably, there is one thing that my girls remain in complete solidarity about. It’s their abhorrence of what they call “the oldies.” To me, the oldies are the Stones, the Beatles, the Eagles and Zeppelin. Classic rock that has stood the test of time with its enduring awesomeness. Right?

Nope. My girls consider the oldies to be anything circa 2000, give or take. This means they pretty much despise every song from the 80s and 90s that defined my childhood and adolescence. As they sail up and down the FM dial, I’ll hear a scrap of a melody that conjures up memories so rich I can taste them, and they will flip the station without a second thought. Modern English’s “I Melt With You”, REM’s “Shiny Happy People”, Dead or Alive’s “You Spin Me Round”, ‘Til Tuesday’s “Voices Carry”, Rush’s “Tom Sawyer”, Indigo Girls’ “Galieo.” All of them, scorned. My heart, crushed.

Now and then I try to pipe in with a subtle suggestion – “Hey, girls, why don’t you keep this song on for just a minute or two?” – but they look at me with disdain. “That’s an oldie, Mom,” they say. “We don’t listen to oldies.”

***

I always hear people say that age is relative. To their point, most of the time I don’t feel old. Usually, I still feel like my younger self, just masquerading as a mom and wife with responsibilities, a job, and laundry to do. Even though my daughters would argue that I am ancient (their word), it seems like only yesterday I was cruising around with my best friends from high school, singing BoDeans’ “Good Things” at the top of our lungs.

I suppose I should enjoy these days of carting around my girls and being the target of their banter. Because before I know it, they will be old enough to drive themselves.