Car repairs clang
Morning birds chirp
Garbage trucks grind and groan
An elderly woman power walks in hot pink leotards while sweating to the oldies. She tunes the suburban symphony orchestra with the vigorous pumping of her hot pink weights. A squirrel scurries alongside her, pauses, and waves. She tips her oversized sun hat in response and continues pumping away. All along the sidewalk, the row of homes flowed in synch with the Saturday morning Symphony… all except one.
From inside that home came the plea of a four-year-old. “PAPI! I WANNA HEAR ‘RHYTHM IS GONNA GET YOU’ AND ‘CONGA’!” His 2-year-old backup dancer squealed in agreement. Pride filled that father’s heart as he queued up the two requests on his phone, plugged it into the speaker system, and opened the garage door for the whole neighborhood to hear.
A munchkin duet performed on the garage stage and warned the hot-pink golden girl, “You know it, the Rhythm is gonna get ya!” and other unintelligible threats. All restraints were loosed, however, once Conga blared from the speakers. The musical minions took their tour to the mean sidewalks of Summerfield and launched their own Saturday Symphony. They flung musical notes from their fingers as they marched down the sidewalk singing, “If you want to, do the conga, you’ve got to listen to the BEAT!”
And the lawnmower lambada’d
And the car repairs conga’d
And the morning birds mambo’d
And the Garbage trucks Jived and Wailed