I’ve looked all over the house. I’ve checked every closet, every cabinet, every cupboard. I pulled out all of the canned goods and boxes of cereal and looked behind them. I removed every garment one-by-one to see if it had nestled between them. I looked inside each shoe and boot to determine if it had coiled up and took a long nap inside one of them (just like my son’s snake did). No luck! I climbed through the access panel in the ceiling and crawled into the attic. Other than some cobwebs, a digital antenna, a couple of boxes, and a lot of blown insulation, I came up empty. The crawl space, predictably damp, dirty and disgusting, was even more disappointing. There was a lot more going on in the crawl space but nothing related to my mojo. I almost wish I hadn’t gone down there because as a result of so many face-to-face encounters with creepy crawlers, I can look forward to nightmares for weeks to come.
Where did my mojo go? Do you happen to know? It’s been with me ever since I was a teenager and first heard ‘Don’t Stop ‘Til You Get Enough’ by Michael Jackson playing on the radio. While I’m on the topic of Michael Jackson, I just have to wonder aloud why he had to start messing with his face? He had a beautiful face and he screwed it all up. I’m not even going to address the other unseemly things he was accused of later in life. I’ll save that for another time. Anyway, yes, I got ‘the fever’ when I was around 15 and that’s when my mojo first appeared. A dance beat was all it needed to unleash itself. It was the 80s and there were so many bands competing for an audience. In the Rock ‘n’ Roll category, there was everything from Bruce Springsteen to The Pretenders to Van Halen to Pat Benatar to Tom Petty & The Heartbreakers. That only scratches the surface, but you get the idea.
There was also the ‘alternative’ scene that ushered in a lot of new and energetic music by artists such as Oingo Boingo, The Go-Go’s, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, The Thompson Twins, Missing Persons, and The Eurythmics. It was wildly entertaining and as much as I enjoyed listening to it, it wasn’t the kind of music that made me want to get out on the dance floor. Madonna, Wham!, Cyndi Lauper, Rick Astley, and Hall & Oates were also huge artists at the time and a day didn’t go by without one of their songs getting airtime on the radio. Still, something was missing. I wasn’t sure what it was. But then came the day when I heard that track from ‘Off The Wall’ and everything changed. I was introduced to the ‘groove factor’ and once we were introduced, nothing was ever the same. Between the beat and the bass, it was impossible to sit still, let alone stay seated. The dance floor called and you had to answer.
Until I was old enough to go to an actual ‘club’, I went to every venue that advertised a ‘dance’. School dances were an option but they always played such a hodge-podge of music that you could never get the rhythm down. The DJ made an attempt to play something to please each of the attendees (stoners, preps, jocks, etc.) so there was no rhyme or reason to the playlist. The other dances I attended were sponsored by, of all organizations, the Mormon church! Yes, I had no interest in joining their church but they actually put on some decent functions with great music and plenty of food to sample, too. Once I turned 16, it all changed. I was finally eligible to go to an actual nightclub. Where I lived, they allowed people that were 16 and older to come and dance. Once 1:00am rolled around, they made everyone exit the club and then only those that were 18 and older could reenter. Of all the clubs that I frequented, the ones that played hip hop/soul/funk/R&B were my favorites.
It was then that my awareness of hip hop, soul, funk & R&B really broadened. Once I got a taste of ‘Just Be Good To Me’ by The S.O.S. Band, ‘Bust a Move’ by Young MC, ‘Word Up’ by Cameo, ‘You Dropped A Bomb On Me’ by The GAP Band’, ‘I Feel For You’ by Chaka Khan, and ‘Let It Whip’ by The Dazz Band, there was no turning back. I couldn’t get enough! For two years solid, from Wednesday through Saturday, I spent every evening/morning at a nightclub. None of the clubs served alcohol, but I didn’t need it. I didn’t even need a dance partner. I just needed a beat to lure me from my seat and then it was ‘on’. And, oh my goodness, I could dance for hours. The only time I stopped was to use the restroom and rehydrate and then I went right back to ‘getting my groove on’. I have so many fond memories from that time in my life. But I didn’t put my dancing shoes away just yet! There was still so much more head bobbing and hip shaking to do!
I am known for my interest in dancing. No matter where I lived or where I went on my travels, I was always on the hunt for a dance club. Even when there wasn’t a club handy and I was at home, I was always open to breaking out ‘Just Dance’ on PlayStation and competing with whoever was game to take me on. Dancing has been a lifelong love, or at least it was. It was until I lost my mojo. Where the heck did it go? I still had it when my husband and I went to Vegas prior to my transplant. We went to see ‘The Michael Jackson ONE’ show as well as watch ‘Earth, Wind & Fire’ perform live, and I could still get these old hips to sway back and forth. But something happened between then and now, something truly sinister. When someone puts on ‘Best Of My Love’ by The Emotions, my favorite go-to dance track, I hardly blink. I feel like there are lead weights tied to my shoes. Practically overnight, I seem to have became a sedentary ‘old fart’ and have lost all interest in ever again ‘moving to the beat’.
The more I think about it, I am pretty sure I know precisely who was involved in its disappearance, when it happened, and where it likely ended up. The fact that I had my mojo prior to the transplant and then it appeared to vanish without a trace as soon as I had the procedure, leads me to believe that a surgeon was involved in this dastardly deed! Unlike where my original kidneys are located, my ‘replacement’ kidney was placed in the ‘hip region’. Before the specialists determine whether you’re even eligible for a transplant, they conduct an ultrasound of your abdominal region to make sure there’s ‘room’. They seemed to think there was plenty of room prior to surgery but I’ll bet anything that once they actually opened me up and took a look inside, they saw something that stood in the way and removed it out of necessity (not knowing how essential it really was). And once they removed it, it probably went straight into a biohazard bag and into the garbage! That’s the only explanation that makes any sense.
Had I known it was removed at the time of my surgery, I would have demanded the physicians return my sweet, precious mojo back to me. Maybe I couldn’t have stuffed it back inside, but maybe I could have placed it in a charm and worn it around my neck or had it mixed in with resin, fashioned the resin into cute bangles, and worn them on my wrist. But, no! Aside from a beautiful kidney to replace my old, useless ones, I have nothing. Ok, maybe that’s a bit of an overstatement but I definitely no longer have my mojo. I still shake but instead of my hips, it’s my hands. Why must life be so cruel??!! Thank you so much for stopping by. For the folks that are ‘following’ me, I am grateful for you and the continued interest you have in reading my blog. I enjoy the opportunity to share things about my life and family or to just make simple random observations. If all goes well and I haven’t run you off, I trust you will return tomorrow as will I.