I had never heard the song “Jive Talkin’” until one Clay Aiken performed it on American Idol (dang, do we italicize TV shows or put them in quotes? I apparently do both). As he Clayed his way through it, I watched in wonder, then said to my fella, “What the hell was that?”

My fella’s wonder matched my own, but his was at the fact that I’d never heard the song. “You don’t know ‘Jive Talkin”?!” He then proceeded to regale me with tales of how that was one of the songs burned into his own brain from the era when his father worked in D.C., and flew back and forth to the family home in southeastern Mass. Dutiful Ma Fella would pack up fella and his twin sister in the old AMC Gremlin and hit the road to the airport, cranking the pop hits the whole way. And so it was that Little Fella was exposed to such wonders as the Bee Gees as they were happening. What’s the fancy phrase for that? In situ? Au courant? Sorry, I have the flu.

Anyhow, I love the image of Little Fella rocking out in the old car, so excited to go meet his dad at the airport. I also love messing with his head, so lately I’ve been trying to co-opt his memories. I don’t know why, really. But recently, when “Jive Talkin’” came on, I regaled him with tales of how I used to go with my family to meet my dad at the airport, and could never forget hearing this song. Puzzled at first, he soon played along, and completely nabbed me by asking what kind of car we were in. Dammit! The Gremlin got me!

I also recently told him how Rod Stewart’s “Maggie May” reminds me of a guy I knew whose ex-wife was named Maggie, and he could never hear that song without thinking of her … this is completely my fella’s story, not mine. But it’s kind of fun to try on other people’s memories for size.

P.S.: Have we not touched the Rod? Oh, the day is coming. The day is coming.