There’s just a bit of difference in age between Thom and me. I like to remind him every so often that while he was out galavanting in his midnight blue/metal flake 1974 Dodge van {that his dad nicknamed the “Thom’s whore house on wheels”} I was two and probably still in diapers.
The phrase “you’re showing your age again, baby” is often heard in this household, especially when we’re listening to music. Like this afternoon, for instance. We were on our way to town to do some wedding thrifting. The windows were down, the sun was shining, and it was a glorious afternoon; a perfect day for some funk {Thom’s self-proclaimed: favorite!}
The Gap Band came on the radio. What? The Gap Band was a funk band? I had no idea. I thought The Gap Band was bunch of preppy old white guys. You know, like an old version of the guys from The Gap commercials. I’m mostly serious. In my defense I think I had them confused with The Allman Brothers.
So, of course, I’ve been schooled this afternoon and the subject was funk music. I now know and appreciate the difference in gaps.
And, for your viewing and listening pleasure I present the real The Gap Band and You Dropped a Bomb On Me. I feel ya guys. I totally feel ya.
I can so relate to the showing your age conversations. My husband is 15 years older than me. He likes to joke that he was in college when I was learning to write my name. 🙂