Saturday, October 15, 2005

Something in the way he moves me...

I am a music-obsessed individual. If I could spend all the money in the world, I believe a good amount of it would be spent on CD's and shows. I have never really listened to kid music around The Kid, instead opting to just play what I like, generally keeping him away from music with bad words and "adult themes" (I've failed at times, especially during last spring's "Well Whiskey" fiasco--The Kid was obsessed with that song, as was I, but I quickly stopped listening to it in his presence once I realized that he was singing along...).

One of my very favorite bands, of course, is The Beatles. The Kid took a special liking to them at about the age of 3 when I was going through a Revolver kick. On that album, of course, is Yellow Submarine. This naturally brought us to the animated film, which quickly became a favorite. After a few viewings, he decided that George was his favorite Beatle. We talked about George a lot for the better part of a year, and he even cried when I told him that George died a couple of years ago. This, of course, made me take a second look at George, and yes, The Kid helped foster some serious Harrison love in me as well. Ohm.

Tonight, The Kid and I watched A Concert For George, the concert at the Royal Albert Hall performed "one year to the day" from when he died (so, November 29th, 2002). A friend of mine lent me the DVD, and it is really incredible: Beatles/George fans must check this out. More incredible than the "rock and roll" performances (can I just say that I got such major goosebumps hearing Clapton and McCartney singing Something together?), was that The Kid was actually pretty interested in the songs that Ravi Shankar wrote for George. They are these very beautiful Indian songs, and The Kid was kind of mesmerized. So was I, honestly. We blasted the TV, and I think my neighbors might have been thinking unkind things about us (damn hippies and their sitar music, or some such thing). I kind of thought that I'd end up watching the DVD on my own, and The Kid would go off and find something else to play with. By the time Billy Preston was singing My Sweet Lord, we were singing "Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna!" together at the top of our lungs.

Are we wierd? I just am so happy to have things to share with him, things that we both enjoy. I can't help but keep going on a good thing. He gets sick of me on it eventually, but it's fun while it lasts!

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