Montana: Big sky, open highway
The 2017 Great American Escape
I have long had an eclectic appreciation of popular music. During my childhood, my father introduced me to big band music and show tunes; later, I got into ’50s doo-wop and then country music and finally the hits of the ’70s and ’80s. I pretty much lost track of pop music around 1990.
This can mean only one thing: I’m getting old. The music on my iPhone largely represents the days of my youth. And I guess I’m not alone. A lot of us Baby Boomers are starting to sport silver hair, serve as fodder for AARP and create commercial opportunities for all things retro.
To verify that my musical tastes are in line with the masses of my generation, I need only to visit a store or restaurant and pay attention to the background music piped in through the speakers. Last night, for example, as we perched on stools at a casino bar in rural Nevada and stabbed at the video poker machines, I couldn’t help but notice that the house music was the Sirius XM channel 80s on 8. As I sipped my soda, I realized that nearly every song I heard is on my phone. Cyndi Lauper? Check. Madonna? Check. Michael Jackson? Check. Bananarama? Check. Men at Work? Bon Jovi? Prince? Check, check, check. I guess my age group is supposed to have money and has thus become the target audience to woo.
This morning, we stopped for breakfast in Twin Falls, Idaho. As we checked out the menu, we heard “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” followed by the Honeydrippers’ version of “Sea of Love.”
I rest my case.