Happy Birthday to my mom’s favorite of all time, Michael Bolotin. Yes, that is the dude’s government name, but most know him only as Michael Bolton. I’m not self glossing some deep-seated knowledge of the music industry here. I chanced upon this nugget by sheer accident.
As I mentioned, Bolton is my mom’s favorite artist. I have always admired my mother for her restraint in life, rooted deeply in perspective. This is just one example, but it perfectly illustrates her approach to life and her dedication to what truly is important. She LOVES Michael Bolton, but never purchased herself a single album. Did she want them? Sure. Did she need them? No. She was good. She preferred to put that $9 toward a pair of cleats for her sons or an American Girl accessory for her daughter or a family trip to Gilles for some custard.
Her self-sacrifice made gift-giving particularly easy on me. For about a 3-year span, it was automatic. For every occasion – Christmas, birthday, Mother’s Day – my mom would unwrap from me a cassette member of his catalog. DONE! The explosion of compact disc technology guaranteed that I could repeat the process, transitioning her entire library, for another 3-year span. It was amazing!
As my options reached exhaustion, I chanced upon an album that I had never seen before. It looked like Bolton on the cover, but it was some dude named Michael Bolotin. I took a chance on “close enough” and grabbed it, completely unaware that I had just unlocked some underground music cred with my friendly Sam Goody checkout clerk, who dropped on me, “All right. Real fan right here!”
So there it is – that was the day that I learned that Michael Bolton was indeed Michael Bolotin. And yeah, so happy birthday, Bolotin.
In a loaded catalog, it’s tough to pick just one, but if I had to choose just one, it just might be: (NSFW)
[YouTube: thelonelyisland]
