In the darkness of early morning in the outskirts of Atlanta, GA in 1987, my mother would groggily wake up from her massive bedroom, put on her silk nightie, and walk up to my room to get me ready for school. I was already an insomniac that generally never slept until 4am, so even at 10 years old getting me up became quite a task, …. but she and I developed a pattern after I became obsessed with a certain movie.
She’d knock at first, and generally this would have no effect. Then she’d call out my name, and this also would have no result. Finally, she’d open up the door, walk into my room and head over to the boombox on my bedside desk that encased my favorite cassette tape.
She’d press play, and this song would come on. It was the same song that I would rewind every night, and it was the same song I would hear every morning for 1.5 years.
A male voice would jump through the speakers in a jovial manner singing:
“You remind me of the babe (what babe?)
Babe with the power (what power?)
Power of voodoo (who do?)
You do (do what?)
Remind me of the babe”
I’d flip out of bed automatically in joy, often to the shock of my mother, who was still a bit slow, still delirious with attempting to wake herself up. Meanwhile, i’d dance in my pajamas to the shower, and I would start my day.