Phyllisophically: With a song in my ... head

Funny how music, even genres and ditties we might not listen to, can cling to our brains with nowhere to go.

Left to our own devices, we’d probably switch stations or have a playlist to control whatever we listen to with any frequency.

Except that, for those of us of a certain age, we haven’t always had this option.

Remember the 8-track tape players from last century? Yeah, I went there.

They were great at the time, all stereo and stuff. Except you couldn’t rewind or fast forward. The only option you had was to click over to another track. Chances are, though, the songs you liked showed up in the exact same place on each track, so you were either missing the beginning or the end. And you had to listen all the way through and perhaps wade through songs you didn’t favor as much.

Not to mention all the times you’d be held hostage — in the elevator or at a business, someone else’s house, anywhere you couldn’t escape or turn the dial. Those are the songs that usually wind up playing in our heads. Poetic justice, isn’t it, that we somehow learn all the words to these pieces of music we like the least.

That doesn’t mean it’s all bad.

Sometimes there are songs we like all right, but they’re not our favorite by any means. Silly songs, kids songs, annoying jingles.

And for me at least, lately the theme has been older songs.

No, not the ‘60s, ‘50s, Doo Wop or even show tunes. I couldn’t be that lucky.

I’m talking old school.

One morning on the way to work, it started out with “Mr. Sandman” and went to “Hello, Dolly” and “Dream a Little Dream of Me.”

As if that wasn’t puzzling enough, I was treated to a commercial interlude of “Munch, munch, munch a bunch of Fritos corn chips.” I’ll spare you the rest, but for the record, I knew every single word of that commercial. And no, I don’t even eat Fritos.

(Full disclosure: there was a time as a kid when Fritos came with a prize and yes, we kids begged our parents to buy it. But that doesn’t mean I needed the jingle playing on repeat.)

My remedy is to tell someone, anyone, and then the song magically jumps into their head.

There are worse fates than being reminded of songs we’ve learned along the way.

As I always say, I can recall every word to the “Green Acres” theme song but for the life of me can’t remember where I parked at the grocery store 10 minutes ago.

In the words of Petula Clark, “The other man’s grass is always greener — the sun shines brighter on the other side ... Some are lucky, some are not. Just be thankful for what you’ve got.”

Like old song lyrics.