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The Cassette Box That Shaped My Musical Life
When school wrapped up for the summer in June, my thoughts immediately turned to one question: Where will we go on vacation this summer? My family often took weeklong road trips to visit relatives and historical sites during the humid East Coast summers, traveling to my dad's hometown in New York or visiting my mom's many sisters in Maryland. And music was always part of those long drives.
As a child of the '80s, I remember sitting in the back seat of our white minivan with my sister as we voted on what would play next. Would it be the multiple-cassette version of the complete Phantom of the Opera? Or would we let the Boston Pops have their moment with Leroy Anderson's "The Syncopated Clock"?
I didn't know it at the time, but those long car trips became some of the most important musical lessons I ever received. I was fortunate to grow up in a household where music of every kind surrounded us. One moment it might be the gorgeous, lilting voice of Judy Collins; the next, the original cast recording of Oliver!
Before every family vacation, our music was packed into a giant, multi-tiered cassette case that made its way from person to person as we debated the next selection. Somewhere between highway exits and rest stops, I was introduced to Ravel, Gershwin, and Leonard Bernstein alongside Neil Diamond, Billy Joel, and The Monkees. Barbra Streisand introduced me to Stephen Sondheim—her rendition of "Being Alive" remains one of my favorites—and we explored George Gershwin's early musicals through a collection of Nonesuch's studio recordings.
Looking back, those road trips offered something that's becoming increasingly rare. Today, every passenger can retreat into their own world with earbuds, a phone, and an endless library of music curated just for them. In the 1980s, though, there was one cassette deck and one soundtrack for everyone in the car. We took turns choosing what came next, sometimes reluctantly listening to someone else's favorite album simply because it was their turn. There was no skipping after thirty seconds if a piece didn't immediately grab your attention. We listened to entire albums from beginning to end, overtures, deep cuts, and all. Somewhere between highway exits and rest stops, we learned patience, discovered new composers and performers, and found ourselves singing along to music we might never have chosen on our own. Those shared listening experiences didn't just make the miles pass more quickly—they broadened our musical horizons in ways that only a long family road trip could.
I realized those hours in the car taught me something no music appreciation class could have. They showed me that great music isn't confined to a single genre – something I still shout from the rooftops today. Broadway belonged beside classical music. Folk songs could lead naturally into jazz. A pop singer could introduce me to one of America's greatest musical theater composers. Good is music is just that – good music. Without anyone intending to give a lesson, my parents were quietly teaching me to listen with curiosity rather than categories. And it shaped what would become my own lifelong love of music!
What albums or artists defined your family road trips? Was there a cassette, CD, or playlist that still takes you back the moment you hear it? I'd love to hear your memories! Share them with me via the Morning Shout Out!
