34/365 My Sharona

For Lisa

Way back at the beginning of this project—oh so long ago, like, last month?—Otter did an entry about “My Sharona.” She mentioned how her coworker’s name was often sung to replace the title words.

My sister had Get the Knack back when it was released, in 1979. With the exception of her musical theater stash, her popular music collection was way more hip than mine. I loved all types of music, but admittedly, what I actually owned was a bit overpopped.

I borrowed this one a lot. I loved “My Sharona.” I just checked out the album playlist online, and I can remember only a few of the other tracks by title. Not surprisingly, the one I do remember is called “Good Girls Don’t.”

“My Sharona” is about lusting after a much younger girl. As someone who was interested in older guys, I had no issue at all with the theme.

But really, I can’t imagine what lyrics could have made me not like this song. The beat was great, it was in a minor key, and, of course, it was easy to parody, as Nick Cheronis (god love him)’s friends and foes did.

I told Otter I’d done the same thing with that song. I thought I could come up with all sorts of examples, but it turns out it’s really a spontaneous thing: You’re in a situation, you hear a four-syllable something that fits the beat and ends ona-ish, and out it comes. But it happens in the moment, then it’s over, and not many of those moments choose storage in my addled brain.

All I could come up with from my current life (which is part medical editor) is all those Latinate diagnoses you don’t want to hear: Car-ci-no-ma! An-he-do-nia! Mel-a-no-ma!

But as a teenager who could type like nobody’s business, the one oft-repeated, almost mantralike one, was this: Smith Corona!

I loved my Smith Corona.

“My Sharona.” I know. It’s only rock and roll. But I like it.