I have a confession to make…I am a fan of the European music group One Direction. There, I have said it (or should I say typed it) and the world is still the same. The earth did not stop revolving due to my confession. Life as we know it has not ceased. Boy, do I feel better, getting that confession out.
Why is this a big deal? It’s probably not. However, when you are a 45-year-old mother of four, the term 1D should stand for something other than One Direction. To an average woman my age, 1D should signify the vending machine number of your favorite snack at work. Or the suite number your doctor’s office occupies. Or the coordinates on the game Battleship. Not the name teenagers use to identify an all-boys music group.
I am a fan of One Direction and I am proud of it. Yes, it helps that I have a 13-year-old daughter that can be the front man for the purchase of things like the One Direction ‘Four’ CD. But lets face facts, even if she hated the band, I’d still be buying their CD.
I am afraid this love of young boy bands comes from past generations in my family. It probably started back further than three generations on my mom’s side of the family, but the first signs of evidence that I am aware of is my mother’s mom.
Back in the 50’s when Elvis was new on the scene, my mom was a teenager in Wichita. She told me stories of how her Southern Baptist family would go to church gatherings many times throughout the week. Yet, the night that Elvis Presley appeared on Ed Sullivan for the first time, my grandmother allowed the family to stay home to watch “The King”.
Nowadays, this is not unusual. However, back then Elvis was new and dangerous. He was an upcoming star that sang Rock-n-Roll and wiggled his hips. For a Baptist mother of seven, this was the sort of thing you did not allow. However, as other teenage girls were being dragged to church that night, my grandmother was sitting in her living room, watching Elvis Presley with her kids and enjoying it.
I don’t know if she really ‘liked’ the hip shaking that Elvis was famous for, but she liked his music. She liked that he had a good gospel background and felt that his talent was Heaven-sent. Man, no wonder why I am such an amazing and cool mother. It’s in my blood.