Ain't No Mountain High Enough

Photo credit: sapanavora.com
by Stacey Graham

As a child, I swore that one day I would grow up to be a Supreme. It didn't matter that I was short, tone deaf and six years old; I would knock Diana Ross off her heels and take over. I had the hand movements; I could harmonize (in my own way) and could rock the feather boa as well as any of the rest of the girls. My mother had other ideas.

"Stacey, you can be anything you want. Why not be a nice housewife and have children."

"No. I need to be a Supreme. Watch this!" And I would jut my hips out in time with the music, tossing my arms around with dramatic fervor. My sister's lipstick creating a band of red around my mouth, I pursed my lips and threw in a Jagger Swagger for effect.

"Stacey. Really. This is going too far. Besides, the Supremes didn't sing Brown Sugar, that was the Rolling Rocks."

"Stones, Ma."

"Right. Stones -- Rocks. Big difference." Throwing a wink my way, I knew she was teasing but this wouldn't crush my ambition to rule the Motown scene.

Until Barry Manilow came into my life.

Barry and I had a strained relationship. My mother loved him so the record player had him on loop. I tried to strut to Copacabana but with little enthusiasm. How could Lola compete with Ain't No Mountain High Enough? 'Nuff said. To make my mother happy, I stuck yellow feathers in my hair for Halloween to show I was cool. Of course, having a ten-year-old dressed as a hooker wasn't what my mother had in mind around the neighborhood begging for candy but she made the best of it by playing the song on the car tape player as she followed behind me to tip off the houses that I wasn't nuts -- I had a theme, people, a theme.

The 70s finally died a horrible death and I threw out my sequined beret for rubber bracelets and tulle skirts. I drew the line at a cone bra. That would have looked silly. Duran Duran covered my wall and I became Rio and I danced on the sand. Okay, on the sidewalk in suburban San Francisco. Whatever. In my mind I was on the beach being chased by Simon LeBon. Stop looking at me like that.

I flirted with punk bands, turned my nose up at Country and fell in love with Mozart during my teen years, but my heart stayed with the 60s and I memorized the top of the charts for the decade. The Beatles and Donovan, Doors and Joplin -- they're still inside with Diana Ross just waiting for my big moment. Now I just need my mom to turn off that damn Manilow tape and become the backup singer I know lurks inside.

Stacey Graham runs this joint and is available for children's parties as long as there are no clowns. They give her the willies. Please visit her website and The Zombie Dating Guide where she shows that she lucked out getting any dates at all during college.


  1. Ah, the soundtracks of our lives.

    You'd be disappointed by mine.

    And now, I've got to go find some motown on youtube...

  2. I am taking backup singer resumes; leave yours on the table with a pack of cigs and a C-note.

  3. I am just a tiny tad younger than you, so my diva was Olivia Newton John. However, all those years of my mom blasting Fleetwood Mac while cleaning house has paid off. To this day, I still have a place in my heart (and my I-Pod) for Mac.

    Loved this post!! (Oh, and FYI - I liked Nick Rhodes and John Taylor. Bring on the men in eyeliner!!)

  4. LOL, I'm not *that* old. I love all decades of music, that was just my thang at that age. ;)


    Go guyliner!

  5. Did your mom really drive behind you with your theme song playing? That's amazing. I need to get someone to do that for me--stat.

  6. OMG, your post just transported me to my cousin Mary's room, where we worked out our routine for "Where Did Our Love Go?" And we got into trouble with her older sister for erasing Janis Joplin's nipples on a poster, leaving small white marks that put Janis' headlights on permanent high beam. Wonderful, funny post, thanks for the free time travel!

  7. You are so cool. I only dreamed of playing Dulcinea in Man of La Mancha. I took opera lessons for a year and a half, but gave up bright lights and heavy costumes to be a wife, mommy and writer. This way I don't have to watch my weight so closely--I just buy new costumes and lower wattage lightbulbs.

    Wish my mom would have followed my with theme music playing--now I see where you got your great Momming skills!

  8. I could SO be a Supreme. I've got Soul, you know. I think it's soul. It might just be a rash, but it's lasted for three decades.


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