A little ditty about a little bitty
People often say that smell is the strongest memory trigger in terms of the senses. I’d argue that, for me, hearing – and particularly music – is a more dramatic way to transport my thoughts back in time.
I was driving home from the grocery store on Saturday afternoon when an annoying commercial prompted me to scan my radio presets. At that time, one of the country stations was featuring Alan Jackson’s “Little Bitty.” This song was fitting for the vibrantly sunny and upbeat weather we experienced last weekend, but my thoughts were not in Georgia.
For the rest of my life, “Little Bitty” will remind me of the first week I interned at KARE 11 in Minneapolis. I shadowed reporters and videographers most workdays and enjoyed getting to know the real people behind the sport jackets, microphones and broadcast voices. I gradually began to see the anchors and reporters as real, “normal” people, but I was timid and awed at the beginning of my summer internship.
So, as you might imagine, I was taken aback when I found myself sitting in one of KARE’s white SUVs headed to a rough area of North Minneapolis to cover a new school lunch program with a sprightly female photog and a hip, Uptown reporter who decided to blare this tune and let her arms flail out the windows.
These ladies had created a mix CD with the oddest concoction of music to span decades and genres that I’d ever heard. One moment we were listening to folk-inspired hipster music and the next minute Mr. Jackson was telling us about a little bitty dish and little bitty spoon.
Just a moment ago I watched the music video because I like to verify that I’m not accidentally posting something on this blog that will make my mother blush when she reads the post. I have a question for you: What is going on with that weird-o scare crow?
In the end, it doesn’t matter how strange I think this song/video is, because Mr. Jackson managed to make a gazillion dollars all the while wearing a henley and blue jeans to work. Consider me jealous, but I’ll get over it. After all, “might as well smile, life goes on for a little bitty while.”
