Music! We all grew up with it, loved it, hated it. It inspired us, helped shape us, for better or worse, into the adults we would become. I grew up in the 70's listening to pop singers like David Cassidy and Donny Osmond. I was in love with Donny Osmond from age 9 until 15. Then I moved on to bands like Journey, AC/DC, Black Sabbath and my favorite...Queen. I loved Queen. There was nothing like Freddie Mercury prancing on the stage. The energy and passion. Eight tracks were all the rage back then and I remember having this white eight-track player that I'd gotten for Christmas. I thought it was the greatest thing ever. My family didn't have much money. We couldn't afford to buy tons of albums or eight-tracks new, but we had the flea market. Right there with the T-shirts and hats, junk, furniture and clothes there were always eight-tracks. And if you got lucky, you could find your favorite bands. I remember one day finding the mother-lode. I came away with nearly every album that Queen had every recorded on eight-track. My favorite song was "Stone Cold Crazy" from their 1974 album "Sheer Heart Attack." Loved it. My obsession with Freddie Mercury grew and I added him to the other posters lining my bedroom walls, overlapping so that they looked like wallpaper. But Freddie was special. He was wearing this skintight outfit as he belted out a song, so he went in my closet....until my dad saw it. He'd tolerated the other posters so far, but not Freddie in his little white leotard. So they all had to go. Even Donny and David. It was the only time I truly got mad at my father. Later on, I got my posters back, minus Freddie, and Queen went on to record more popular songs, "We Are the Champions" and "Another One Bites the Dust." But I still remember "Stone Cold Crazy" and leaving that dusty flea market clutching my prize.
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