The man himself

(Originally posted on Facebook May 29, 2011)

I may have made some mistakes when raising Sydney Rose, but none could be funnier than when I introduced her to David Bowie.   Let me back up. There are two key points to make before we get to Bowie.

1.  Sydney must have been in the third grade when she started playing Britney Spears and I knew an intervention was going to be necessary.  At that point I went out and bought her a London Calling CD from The Clash, and I am happy to say that another life has been saved.

Within the year she had the infamous poster on her wall and she knew most of the lyrics from the title track to “Train in Vain.”  I couldn’t have been more proud.

2.  I made it absolutely clear to Sydney that language does not hurt.  Language is only made up of words. Words are just symbols, they can’t physically hurt.  I’ve never had a problem with her bringing up any topic, nor using any words from “fuck” to “shit.”  But I made it crystal clear to her that with language comes responsibility.  Other people can be offended (for whatever reason) with certain words and especially in the context in which they are used, so she needed to be cognizant of the words and the people she used them in front of. Sydney knew she shouldn’t swear in front of certain adults like teachers, some parents and grandpa. She never once got in trouble for swearing in front of any adults while growing up. She was very responsible.

Then one day I received a promotional copy of female indie artists covering David Bowie tunes.  It was amazing.  This was back when I was still working on Buzzine magazine.  The CD was called Spiders From Venus: Women Cover David Bowie. I’m sad to say that when I just looked it up on Amazon the status was “currently unavailable”.

In any case, we’d be driving up the 101 with this CD blasting in the car and Sydney came to know and love Bowie through these women covering his music.  Neither one of us can carry a tune but that doesn’t stop us from singing along at full volume…especially in the car.

One day I was walking her to school when she started singing “Cracked Actor.”  My smile of pride dimmed as I realized with mild horror and chagrin that she was singing correctly, the following lyrics:

“Crack, baby, crack,
show me you’re real
Smack, baby, smack, is that all that you feel
Suck, baby, suck,
give me your head…”

Now with her being in the third grade I didn’t want to have to broach the subject of fellatio.  If she had asked, that would be different.

I stopped walking, and held her hand and said, “Baby, you’re going to have to trust me on this one, you can’t sing this song in front of your teachers.”

She looked at my calm, yet serious face, thought about it, and cheerfully said, “Okay.”

Years later we revisited this subject and to this day she finds it hysterical that her own mother introduced her to David Bowie, which she continues to sing to, albeit judiciously.