Strike a Pose

I reach for the last bag of toasted wasabi seaweed on the top shelf of the snack aisle at Trader Joe's.  Over the speakers a voice belts out, "Life is a mystery. Everyone must stand alone. I hear you call my name, and it feels like HOME."  Thinking more about reaching to the top shelf than the music that is playing, I sing out loud without realizing it.  I catch the eyes of a middle aged employee stocking the shelves.  He laughs at me. 

"ARGHH, she's everywhere this week!," I reply.  "Haven't we had enough of Madonna?."

He laughs again and says, "She's going on tour again. They just announced it yesterday.  Come on, people!  What's the appeal?."  

"I know!," I exclaim, "I can't believe MORE people tuned in just to watch Madonna at half time than watched the actual Super Bowl. It's crazy!."  I respond emphatically, not wanting to admit that I was dancing in my living room during the whole show.

The song ("Like a Prayer") is in my head the whole way home.  It's been a long day of classes.  The children are in bed.  Jason greets me with a warm bowl of chili, a hug, and then returns to his TV show.  I retreat to our condo's bathroom that, in true 1990s style, is about the same size as our bedroom.  With a bit of space and a large mirror it is perfect for a little dance practice with an air microphone.  I'm not sure how long I've been practicing my Madonna moves to YouTube videos when I spy Jason standing at the bathroom door laughing.  This makes twice in one night I've been mocked because of Madonna.   

"How do you know these songs?," Jason asks incredulously,  "How have we been married 11 years, and I've never heard you listen to a Madonna album?  What has happened to my wife?!."

See, that's just the thing about Madonna.  I'm calling it the "Madonna drug."  You think she's annoying.  You scoff that a fifty something woman is still donning a blond wig and dancing in high boots with a Cleopatra outfit.  But YOU WATCH IT ANYWAY.  And silently you think, "I want to look like that in my 50s."  But these thoughts are always slightly tempered by a bit of disgust.  A good dose of disgust keeps the jealousy in line.  You don't want to admit it, but if you are a child of the 80s, her music is deeply imbedded in the nostalgic part of your brain.  Even though she is constantly causing controversy, and we love to hate her, almost everyone has a Madonna memory.  

What were you doing in 1984 when "Lucky Star" hit #4 and "Like a Virgin" hit #1? I was dancing to them at Fourth grade slumber parties when I didn't even know what the word 'virgin' meant.  By 1985, when "Material Girl" hit #2, my friends and I were putting on 'shows' at summer camp by lip singing to the words.  I think we all slightly knew that being a 'material girl' wasn't really what we were supposed to want, but it was just too hard to not imitate her moves and dance.   How about 1986?  If I played "Live to Tell" or "Papa Don't Preach" or "True Blue," could you name where you were?  I was working really hard to be cool at the first boy/girl dances of Middle School.  Yikes.  What's your Madonna memory?  Nostalgia is a powerful drug.  Music and memory intertwine almost as intimately as smell and memory.  Is this Madonna's appeal?  I'm not entirely sure. She is constantly controversial, often gross, definitely blasphemous, and yet her widespread appeal over almost three decades and multiple generations continues to baffle me.  Don't tell me what her songs mean. I don't really want to know.  For now, with the other 113 million people who tuned in on Sunday night, I think I'll just laugh and dance.

Ladies with an attitude. 

Fellas that are in the mood. 

Don't just stand there. Let's get to it.

 Strike a pose, there's nothing to it.