Part of the treatment when going to my chiropractor is to rest for 20 minutes after the adjustment. There is a designated room called “the quiet room” where patients lay in recliners or soft cots to relax and assimilate the changes in their bodies.
Today as I lay in one of the recliners I had a chance to listen to the music being piped into the room. The office has a CD player and thus are able to select their entire playlists for the day (no more Musak for them). If I had my druthers, I would rather have dead silence when I’m trying to rest, but as I mentioned in my earlier post “The Coffee Bean”, it seems that people just gotta have noise around them at all times.
Anyway, office policy demands that the music be non-exciting, and it definitely is. As the bland melodies assaulted my addled brain, it triggered memories of the music my mom used to listen to when I was a child. People of my current age in those days loved their “elevator music”. Instrumentals that were covers of Broadway songs, old Perry Como hits, etc. Boring and uninspiring, I often wondered how my mother could listen to this stuff.
I wondered to myself, “Is this what I will listen to when I’m older? Is it an age thing?”
I now understand that that kind of music was to my mom as rock and roll is to my generation. She listened to this stuff because that’s all there was at the time. I guess it reminded her of her youth much as “Karma Chameleon” reminds me of mine. And of course, that is the kind of music I still like to listen to. I haven’t “aged” into show tunes or Perry Como. And even though I’m middle-aged (Egads!) I still like indie music and adult alternative bands. My favorite bands are the Eels and Cake and I never tire of their stuff.
So I guess I’ll just “take my medicine” when relaxing at the chiropractor’s quiet room. The music will remind me of the smell of clean sheets hung out on lines to dry; my mom singing the words to an instrumental cover; the light patterns of early morning on my wall as I lay in my childhood bed, gardens planted, leaves of fall, and my childhood house.
I guess the elevator music is not so bad after all.