uncle david

This is my Uncle David.  Technically, he's Mr. F's Uncle David, but I claim him as mine.  He lives here in Florida with his mom not far from Dr. Dad and Mom.  Dr. Mom takes him to "work" three days a week and I tend to tag along.  She's been out of town, giving me the opportunity to have some serious bonding time with David.  And I am so, so grateful for it.

One thing you need to know about him is that he loves music.  And his birthday, but that's another subject.  Were it not for a lack in some fine motor skills, Mr. F and I would have had him DJ our wedding in a hot second and he would have been amazing.  He doesn't just love music, he knows it.  He has one of the biggest collections I have ever seen and never leaves home without his iPod.  David's dream, as he will tell you often, is to move to New York City and be a DJ...or take over for Dick Clark and Ryan Seacrest on New Year's Eve.  We'll see him pretend talking into microphones practicing all the time for his grand debut.  "I'm going to New York," he tells us.

One day this week, David and I were en route to his job.  I had David in the front seat holding his best friend O, a Westie.  If you know me, you'll know I'm the furthest thing from a dog person you could find.  So you'd be amazed to know that not only was there a Westie in the front seat with David, but a Basset Hound sprawled and drooling all over the back seat.  Anyway, I usually listen to NPR in the car but the moment David hops in with me, he changes to the 80s station.  On rare occasions he'll let me listen to contemporary music.  This was not one of those days.  As we drove, both of us were sleepily listening to Bananarama, daydreaming of Coke.  (He loves Coke, too.  I think it's one of the inherent reasons why we've bonded.  Oh, and cheeseburgers...)  Then La Bamba came on and boy howdy did we rock out.  His poor little lisp had no idea what to do with the lyrics, but we both sang.  This latin rock tribute was nothing compared to what came next.

Bon Jovi.

Oh guys, if only you could have heard him "sing."  David doesn't sing so much as groan and mumble off key.  He usually reserves it for alone time with headphones on. And almost never sings on those early morning drives.  I do, it keeps me awake.  But after warming up to La Bamba, he was reared and ready to do.  He howled and groaned with the best of 'em and was just having the time of his life.  I can guarantee you've never heard a version of "I'll Be There For You" like this.  Ever.  David knew when the swells were coming and sang all the more fiercely, giving it quite the dramatic flair.  All I could do was sit back and let him go, afraid of interfering with the magic that is David "in the zone."    He sang until we pulled into work, gave the pup some last minute lovin', got out of the car and then looked at me and said, "You da best."  And that was that.

I've been really struggling with my identity lately and my purpose in life as we transition into new phases.  That morning with David really helped me.  All he did was sing like his life depended on it, but that did more than he will ever know.  I realized that I have a family here that needs me and I need them.  That in and of itself gives me purpose.  And if David thinks I'm the best, I've got to be doing something right.  David, I'll be the Pips to your Gladys any day!  You da best, man!