Mixtapes were the love language of my youth. Back in the double-cassette boombox days of recording, when each tune took the song’s real time to capture, I’d spend whole weekends curating perfect playlists for friends’ birthdays, special occasions and new seasons. I’d also create elaborate collaged case covers for each tape; on occasion, I’d write out—by hand—all the songs’ lyrics as a sing-a-long companion.
The passion faded from my life as the medium shifted to CDs then MP3s; these days I rely on streaming services to craft the soundtrack of my days.
But recently, my passion exploded back to life as the (self-appointed) DJ Mom for my youngest son’s travel baseball team.
My new role came about after a particularly rough game for my son; in tears, he proclaimed that the team was “too serious”. (He’s a great player, but by nature he’s more party than professional.) As his emotions settled, he explained that he’s proud to be on the team and wants to keep playing, but he’s intimidated by the…
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