I seem to be lost in a Friday Fog. There's just something about the weekend that makes it impossible to focus. As I was sitting here not writing chapter 6 of my novel, I started thinking about music, and who should pop into my mind, but The Jazz Singer himself, Neil Diamond.
I am going to confess something, that I rarely admit in public. I am a Forever in Blue Jeans, Love on the Rocks, Sweet Caroline, Coming to America, Neil Diamond fan. There, I've said it. I suspect, I'm not the only closet Neil Diamond fan out there. I happen to live with one, who shall remain nameless (you know who you are).
Those of you who know me, are probably crunching the numbers and realizing that this does not coincide with my age, after all, I'm not a baby boomer rocking out the mom jeans, but my devotion is just as strong, and it started at the age of seven.
Those of you who know me, are probably crunching the numbers and realizing that this does not coincide with my age, after all, I'm not a baby boomer rocking out the mom jeans, but my devotion is just as strong, and it started at the age of seven.
It was the annual dance festival for my elementary school. Each grade had a set dance that they performed for the parents at the end of the year. I was in the coveted second grade. Coveted, because second graders danced with the giant parachute.
The song was none other than Coming to America. Previous to that day, I had been on the fence about Neil Diamond. My parents liked him, which made me naturally suspicious. My older siblings claimed he was stupid, but they also said the same thing about me. What was a girl to do?
As the teacher cued the music, the girl in front of me heard my humming and uttered the five most unforgivable words I had ever heard: "Neil Diamond is a stripper."
That was all it took. I defended Neil. No way could you sing about coming to America, while taking off your clothes. No way. Besides, Neil Diamond was Forever in Blue Jeans, he'd said so himself. The girl, completely shocked by my angry outburst, backed down and Neil's honor (deserved or not) stayed intact, but I would never be the same.
As I jogged around that parachute and pumped my tiny ineffectual fist into the air, shouting "Today!" I knew that Neil Diamond was cool.
LOL Missi this is so funny!
ReplyDeleteI don't have strong feeling about the matter. But I do think that you can't forever be in blue jeans and be a stripper at the same time. You were right to defend him.
:D
Sweet Caroline is one of my top jukebox picks. And I loved that big parachute thing when I was little. Used to pretend I was in a hot air balloon when we'd play it in gym.
ReplyDeleteI found you through Shelly, she was right you are too funny. I love me some Neil too. I can admit it. Sweet Caroline is amazing!
ReplyDeleteThanks for the comments everyone!!!
ReplyDeleteI see you are new to blogging. Welcome!I just started two months ago, and I have learned so much from other writers. How about a new follower? Look forward to reading your posts.
ReplyDeleteThanks Lacie,
ReplyDeleteIt is so fun to meet new people who share the same interests. I always love new followers! Welcome!