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Picture it. Southern Wisconsin 1984. Two children- a boy, age 10, and a girl, age 5, are about to make music history. Over their heads, they pull on the clean briefs they found in the laundry basket, placing the leg holes around their ears . They rip off their pants and stand, legs akimbo, in the middle of their living room- he in his superman Underoos and she in her Wonder Woman. Each clench an invisible microphone while the electrifying zing of a guitar blares through the speakers. The children dance to the wild cacophony of saxophone, guitar and drums until the chorus breaks.

“Urgent, urgent, emergency.”

They sing along until their voices are hoarse, and their little bodies collapse on a sweaty heap on the floor.

“Again?” he asks.

She giggles and nods. He places the needle on the record, knowing instinctively where to place it and they start all over again.

More than once, my brother and I were thankful our mother did not own a video recorder. She did, however, have a cassette player. To this day, the cassette resides in her underwear drawer, ready and waiting.

We have yet to plan a reunion tour.

(C) Sara Ackerman 2016


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