Some of the best sliced snapshots of my life take place within the boundaries of my Hyundai Elantra; driving here or there or everywhere. This is true if, and only if, my copilot, DJ Sir Michael (aka MK) Mix-a-Lot is riding shot gun. This son of mine is the all-time greatest, goofiest, throw down belter, singer, crooner, rapper, attempt to beat box-er, make-me -laugh-er, I have EVER had the pleasure to joy or errand ride with.
No matter the destination, within minutes upon rolling down our side street Avenue, out of my peripheral I can be sure to see some ten year old MC fingers ready to spin a mix. Whether it’s a CD mix, impromptu radio roulette, or assorted YouTube playlist, it’s always a guaranteed car party.
From year to year, with the ever rising tides of favorites and chart toppers, the artist mixes will vary.
A couple years ago Macklemore was our Jam; Straight up rapping our way to Jewel Grocery store… I’m a take your grandpa’s style, I’m a take your grandpa’s style, No for real – ask your grandpa – can I have his hand-me-downs?
Spitting rhymes while running errands to the post office and to pick up a prescription, until we no longer can take it, So we put our hands up like the ceiling can’t hold us, Like the ceiling can’t hold us.
The ceiling can’t hold you, you say, Mack? Let’s throw in a little Pressure! Pushing down on me, pushin down on you, no man ask for… Touché, Macklemore. You and Lewis ain’t got nothing on Bowie.
Then Sir DJ MK Mix-a-lot became formally introduced to Sirs John, Paul, Ringo, and George. This brought the auto moto Dance party jam to a new level; dare I say we reached an elevated emotionally enriched peak? Grand hand gestures accompanied as our hearts poured out lyrics with the utmost seriousness and respect… Hey jude, don’t make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, Then you can start to make it better… Until the heightened pinnacle of, Judey, Judey,Judey,Judey,Judey , Owww!!!
Last summer? Johnny Cash day in and day out. I was shackled within the confines of the Man in Black’s, Rusty Cage, but I Walked the Line happily just to witness DJ MK’s thoughtful crooning. Johnny was the purpose we attended, “Million Dollar Quartet,” show three months ago. Johnny is the reason I have listened to Sixteen Tons, an awesome sixteen thousand times.
But DJ MK understands his audience’s needs. After bellowing out Sixteen tons, and what do ya get? Another day under and deeper in debt… Sir MK Mix-a-Lot will always opt for our happy go-to, all out belting jam, to which we reach full, true, mother son harmonic glory…
Help! I need somebody. Help! Not just anybody. Help! You know I need someone… Heeeelp.
I need only one DJ co-pilot, and I’ve got the best. It’s ridiculous and awesome. As we pulled up to the house this evening after a particularly long day, I turn the key of the ignition. The blare of the music abruptly stops, leaving us in the dark with our two voices trailing off, When I was younger so much younger than todaaaay… we exit and begin to trudge through the ice and snow, up the steps. He continues to sing… I never needed anybody’s help in any way… I laugh and DJ MK Mix-a-Lot awaits on the porch ahead of me, holding open the door.
“Well, thank you Sir. Ah. Haha, I love ya Mike.”
“I love you too, Mom.”
Some of the best sliced snapshots of my life.