Theological and Aesthetic Ponderings on the Music of Road Tripping

A road trip to Nashville yesterday found the thirteen Adams' in one Blue Whale for fourteen hours with four revolving drivers. And I'd say it was a success.

I was the first driver up. The rule is that he who holds the keys controls the music. But our cd player is not working, so that left us with Pandora options. Brett ran through his list of options for me.
Guns and Roses? Pff. Yeah, right.
Journey? Yes!
Synthesizers, driving guitars, me bobbing my head to the music, Brett laughing.
Separate Ways.
Oh yeah. And we were off.

So, while the rest of the family lightly snoozed around the Blue Whale, I listened to Journey, Heart, Kansas, Bon Jovi, Toto, and lots of others.  And having the solitude of the wheel, it gave me time to ponder what I was hearing.

I've decided that .38 Special has written my anthem for parenting adults in Hold On Loosely:
Hold on loosely.
But don't let go.
If you cling too tightly,
You're gonna lose control.
You're baby needs Someone to believe in,
And a whole lotta space to breathe in.
So hold on loosely.
But don't let go. 

And REO Speedwagon has put the book of Hosea to rock in Keep On Lovin' You:
You should have seen by the look in my eyes, baby,
There was something missin'.
You should known by the tone of my voice, maybe,
But you didn't listen.
You played dead; but you never bled.
Instead you lay still in the grass all coiled up and hissin'.
And though I know all about those men,
Still I don't remember.
'Cause it was us, baby, way before them, 
And we're still together. 
And I meant every word I said,
When I said that I love you, I meant that I love you forever. 
And I'm gonna keep on lovin' you, cause it's the only thing I wanna do.

I was having fun.

Brett was up next, when we listened to his Mark Knopfler station. I dozed, and, thank you, Lord, his shift was over before he had a chance to get to his Delta Blues station, at which point, we would have all been subjected to Muddy Waters and Mississippi Whatshisname. Phew.

Alex managed to keep it righteous with Lecrae and tunes from Sovereign Grace, although they were liberally sprinkled with country tunes by Tim McGraw, Alan Jackson, and Faith Hill. Zach, who admitted he can't take more than two country tunes at one time,  finally gave up and put on his headphones.

The last three hour leg was taken by Zach. And suddenly, Mr. Classical (because that's what he keeps his truck radio and his bedroom radio permanently tuned to) morphed into a metalhead. We started with AC DC's tribute to Rob in Hell's Bells. His occasional hard rock tune had me gaping incredulously at him. Who are you? Not to mention the tortuously bad Land Down Under by Men at Work. While I gagged, everyone else in the car, even the younger ones, were tapping their toes. But his bad choices were punctuated with good stuff by Genesis or Foreigner, and all of us were singing when Peter Gabriel's Sledge Hammer came on. Brett was even doing a little be-bop from the second bench.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeaaaaaaaah.

Zach's playlist included one blow-me-away country song by Eric Church called Sinners Like Me. I had never heard it before, but it made me smile:
I was fifteen when my daddy's old man
Caught me halfway through my first beer.
He laughed so hard when my face turned green,
He said, "You come from a long line of sinners like me."

Oh, if our own parenting could always be laced with Grace like that!!!

Every TULIP begins with T, and this little song more than ably addressed sin and the quilted layer of grace that God lays on top. What? Sinning? Yeah, you 'n' me both, kiddo.

And as we made our way up the old gravel road that led to my parents' property, the synthesizers and the driving guitars started. Why, lookee there. He's just like his mama.
Separate Ways.

We're here. We're safe. We're enjoying some Tennessee quiet.
And we'll have fourteen hours on the return trip to do some more musing on the music of Road Trips.

I love my family. I love the unity that fellowship in the Holy Spirit brings. But I'm also thankful for the individuality in one Blue Whale.

Peace.