One might ask himself or herself how a simple song could be traumatizing. Well picture this, you are eleven-years-old just beginning your 6th grade year of junior high, intimidated being in a new environment, and the next thing you know your “old battle ax” of a gym teacher queues up “Sexual Healing” by MARVIN GAYE as you exercise. At this time the gym class was segregated girls and boys did not mix (The only exception was when they taught square dancing. Yes, you read that correctly, square dancing). However, we were all in the same building. I was embarrassed beyond belief to be doing the daily calisthenics with lyrics such as “Baby I’m hot just like an oven. I need some loving” playing in the background. I could just feel the eyes of creepy 8th grade guys watching me. You know the guys that have flunked so many times they are old enough to drive to junior high. This was not an isolated incident. This song was played during our calisthenics many times that year. To this very day, if I hear the beginning lyrics, “Get up get up get up get up. Wake up wake up wake up wake up,” I scream and change the station if I am in the car. If I happen to be in a store when the song starts playing, I stifle my scream and leave immediately. I suppose it is irrational after all these years to fear listening to this song, but I can’t help myself.
P.S.: That year was tough music wise for me because “Mickey” by TONI BASIL was a hit, and that was a whole other can of worms. People to this day think it is funny to refer to that song when I tell them my name.
UNK SEZ: Oh, Mickster you’re so fine, you’re so fine you blow my mind…sorry I could not resist. Seriously, Mickster you opened the trauma gates with the mere mention of gym class alone. Obviously physical torture is not enough for some gym teachers. There are many who feel the the need to utilize Abu Ghraib-style psychological break down methods as well. As Mr. Gaye himself sang “What’s going on?” Honestly, I can’t blame you for grudging on that nearly X-rated musical demand for immediate gratification. It’s like, simmer down, Mr. Gaye, wear green on Thursday much? Sheez. To be fair, poor Marvin’s tragic fate of being shot and killed by his brain tumur suffering father meant he never lived long enough to be introduced to the Divinyl’s take charge, DIY solution “I touch myself” Very sad, very sad indeed.