. . . Mony Mony
Driving home today after a lengthy meeting, preceded by several long weeks, with a few more yet to come and feeling rather glum, I turned on the car radio to an oldies station I frequent from time to time. I could feel the beat of the tune before I heard the words and did what many-a-sexagenarian might do; I turned up the volume as loud as I could, bounced my head and shoulders back and forth, rocking my car to the rhythm as I sang as loud as I could “Mony, Mony”! Yeah! My feet pumping the brakes, ever-so-lightly at a stop light, I was wishing I were on a dance floor. Recalling dances in college where a certain friend of mine and I would arrive with 25 cents in our shoes.
College dances back then were 50 cents stag, 75 cents drag, which meant you could get in for 50 cents, 75 with a date. We would feign poverty, which really wasn’t stretching the truth all that far, asking a few cute lads if they could pretend we were their dates to get in, earning them 25 cents. It got us into the dance and the boys got a dance with two, if I may say so, rather cute girls with long, straight hair and short skirts who were pretty good dancers and always had fun.
So, as I drove, “Mony Mony” causing noise pollution, my mood lightened, the sun came out, and I hurried on home to find Tommy James and the Shondells to share with you, though the Billy Idol version may be more familiar. On the way to posting, Wikipedia informed me that the title and term, Mony, presented itself to Tommy James as he stood on a balcony. There, before him, was the Mutual of New York Building. Mony Mony! Not exactly acrostic but fun, none-the-less.
Sometimes it just feels good to shout out a song, doesn’t it? Do you have a song that does this to you? Makes you want to sing along, dance on your brakes, rock your car?
An update: My sister is healing, slowly but surely, and there is a light at the end of the tunnel. Thank you for all of your prayers, good wishes, thoughts, and encouragement. Penny