The Beauty of Backseat Voices

A Sunday Amen

Backseat of the Dodge Dart with mom :) I keep this by my bedside.

There is something about the voices of children in the backseat of a car. No t.v. or electronics to keep them occupied, but if for a song to sing, book to read, window to stare out of or favorite teddy to show the blue skies, marshmallow clouds and flowers whizzing by.

“Teddy B is dancing nana.”

“I love you nana.”

“I love you so much Violet.”

Quiet.

A little voice, almost three, begins to sing “Brown Bear, Brown Bear, what do you see…”

I melt.

As a nana I am here to tell young parents that in this magical mobile box, where time stands still and moments are caught in the minds of those who are listening, there is a wealth of knowledge and understanding to be grabbed.

I’m not talking about the yelling, crying or meltdowns from exhaustive days and over stimulation… although there are lessons to be taken from them. I’m talking about the quiet in the front seat. Light music playing and potential for something special to happen. For the privilege of hearing your child.

The backseat was a place where I glanced in the rearview mirror at my firstborn giggling, eating his toes, eventually singing Motown as it played on the radio, staring out the window, counting specific colored cars as they flew by, “winner” he’d yell to his sister. I heard a neighborhood magic show was coming by eight years old and all about a girl by Jr. High and the quiet when he had to take the bench for most of a game. The high school years were met by a big yellow bus and I felt as though I had lost touch.

Mind you this began in 1988, and as per the not so safety rules, he was facing forward on an old VW Bus bench, air in front of me, engine in the back. I could see the asphalt through the stick-shift hole.

We would add his sister 17 months later and see her excitement every time we drove that bus. She was especially excited, when we went camping a few hours away. We didn’t realize until we pulled into the camp-site, she wanted to stay inside of our hippie van, refusing to get unbuckled while we struggled with the tent. “You okay in there?” side-door swung open. The longer we drove the more she loved being in that backseat. I can still hear her at six, then seven, nine, and so on chatting away with her best friend in the backseat. They shared stories, humor and glimmers of their world together that made me realize my daughter was going to be an intimate friend. Not a party girl. I was right and I needed to know this to understand her heart as the years rolled on. Soon she will head to New York City, to celebrate their 35th year. There, in the backseat of a taxi, will be much chatter.

Six years later came our last-born son. He would be placed in the baby carseat, next to me, facing backwards in the VW Bus passenger seat, so I could keep an eye. Seems like we were swinging backwards to the days where my brother and I stood up and hung onto the back of the Dodge Dart very flexible front-seats, as mom swiftly drove us around town with a two-footed style of braking and accelerating simultaneously, afraid it would stall (because it did. often.). Rules have most definitely changed for the better.

We finally ended up with a safer car and I’ll never forget the day my youngest was annoying his sister, loudly, in the backseat. I pulled over and made him apologize. I needed some peace and quiet. As we began to drive away he suddenly yelled, “NO DATE!” I was stunned. “What do you mean?” I asked my near four year old. He had been talking about taking me out for pizza in a VW Bug, in the backseat, for several months while we took his siblings back and forth to school. I answered “no date?” He said, “No pizza, no Volkswagen Bug!! I said, “okay, well, maybe someday you’ll change your mind.”

I’ve been informed the day is finally coming this March :) He’s 29 now.

In high school we took him to a charter art school, a good commute, and I can’t begin to tell you how thrilling the carpool backseat conversations were. Being theater kids, between fast and furious chatter, they would break out in Broadway songs to the delight of the unknown driver who would turn into the known as soon as she entered the house. “Hey can you sing me that song?” Eyeballs rolling. “No.” “I don’t have time. I have homework.”

This was the same backseat I would watch my best friend’s son quietly stare out the window as his mom was slowly passing to cancer back at home. I felt the pain as the sunlight hit his face.

Spoken and unspoken… this is the beauty of backseat voices.

Pay attention.

Amen.