Speaking of eclectic music tastes and being firmly stuck in the 80s… this morning, as I was driving my dear old Dad home from breakfast, I tuned into Sirius XM’s 80s on 8. Suddenly, the unmistakable voice of Barry Manilow filled the car with Read ’Em and Weep.
Now, those who know me know that I am a proud and unapologetic Fanilow. Yes, I have traveled across the country to see him perform. And no, it’s not just about the music—though I’ll defend Copacabana with my dying breath. Barry Manilow is a true showman. He knows how to work a crowd, when to pull at the heartstrings, and when to get everyone swaying in unison. He tells stories that make you laugh, cry, and wonder why you didn’t bring more tissues.
So there I am, driving along, listening to Read ’Em and Weep, and I’m instantly 14 again—lying on my bed, radio turned up, hoping my parents wouldn’t walk in during the “dramatic” part. Back then, my biggest worries were whether my acne would clear up before the next school dance and if my bangs had achieved the right level of hairspray-induced lift. I had no clue that in just two years I’d meet the guy who’d become my husband, or that one day I’d be a teacher, or that I’d look back and laugh at what I thought was “stress.”
All that from a three-minute song. Barry really does “write the songs that make the whole world sing.”
That’s my story. What’s yours?
That's My Story- What's Yours? 