Anyway, things got weird. My mother told me the women at these meetings were creepy and obsessed. They made drawings and stories and harshly judged and hated anyone he dated. Because music is so intimate an art form and because so many of his songs were about love, especially sung by a person who seemed lonely. And thus, they think he's actually a very lonely person just looking for the right one. And they, as his biggest fans, are it.
So, this kind of killed my mother's interest in being associated with Manilow's fanclub. And now, having sired a fangirl herself, she's able to relate to my weirdness with Tumblr and writing a fan letter (which I actually did; yikes) and so on and so forth. So thank you, Barry Manilow, for adding a extra bonding layer between me and my mother. Also, thank you for Copacabana, because that song is utterly, brilliantly lame and I love it.