When I hear an old time rock and roll song, my past comes alive. It begins with the tap of my toes, then rhythmically tingles up my spine all the way to my shoulders, and I must boogie, shimmy, shake... even if I am sitting in a chair.
Like a rap at the door, I answer the knock and am greeted by my younger self. The past is in every musical note, every sh-boom, high pitched singer's voice, every rat tail comb that I ever used to tease my hair, every mini skirt I flounced in, and every 45rpm record I ever purchased. Every flail, twist, twirl and mashed potato stomp comes rushing back in an open-armed greeting, and it is all I can do to restrain my boogie-woogie self to not get up and bring the past to life.
Sometimes I can't resist, and I two-step down the cookie aisle. I've even been caught shaking, rattling and rolling in the dentist's reception room. I can't help myself; when my songs come on, my past erupts like a volcano of memories, and I must boogie.
Does music speak to your soul?