The Music of My Life
Just the other day, I was in my car and heard a song. It was one of those moments. I'm sure you've all had them. The clerk at the auditory memory bank pulls open the file drawer, blows a little dust off of the appropriate file, and starts the reel. And you're there. Just for a few minutes. But it's nice.
It got me started thinking about all the special songs in my life. Trying to see how many I could just recall. There are bunches. That's what happens when you live this long. Anyhow, I thought I'd share a few of them, that, while they may not be great songs, inhabit a special corner of my heart. Feel free to share yours with me.
I would say they are in no particular order, but I found myself doing a chronological thing, so I'll stick with it.
My youngest is missing both of her upper front teeth right now. Pretty cute stuff...in a grisly sort of way. But, when I was not much older than her, and shared that anatomical distinction, I can remember riding in my dad's wood panelled station wagon. I can't remember where we were going, but "Winchester Cathedral" was playing on the radio. And when it got to the part of the song where they whistle, he asked me to give it a go. Teasing me, of course. But, I showed him. I was able to do it. Everyone in the car cracked up. If I hear it when I'm alone, I'll still whistle. But even if people are with me, I smile a little smile and think about doing it.
During the summer between my high school and college years, I ran around with three very close friends - Rhonda M., Denise (DeeDee) F. and Paula (P.J.) B. DeeDee and I (who have known each other since our freshman year in high school) are actually still pretty close. Anyway, that summer, the four of us were determined to get into as much trouble as any four relatively straight-laced nerd girls could get into. Which was a little. But not nearly as much as we were asking for. We spent a great deal of time riding around in Rhonda's 1968 black Mustang. It was a rockin' car. Except for the missing back floor board. We had dubbed it the Flintstone-mobile, because if you had to sit in the back seat, you could stick your feet through the holes in the floor and push-start the car, kinda like Fred and Barney did in the cartoon. We never actually tried it though. Most of that summer, we burned up two 8-tracks (that's right. I said 8-tracks) in Rhonda's car. And there were two songs that were our anthems. Meatloaf's "Bat Out of Hell" and Olivia Newton John's "Totally Hot". I'm still a fan of quite a few songs on that Meatloaf album, but I'm pretty sure there is no way in HELL I could stand to listen to "Totally Hot" again. Okay, if I ran across it, by some bizarre coincidence (nobody was playing it then...not likely they'd be playing it now), I might give it five or ten seconds. But, that would be it. We chased an awful lot of boys that summer. Some of us even caught a few...;)
My freshman year at college, brought with it my first serious beau, Ron. Ron was a very handsome man. He was three years older than me, but he was a freshman as well. His dad had recently died and he was taking advantage of the social security benefits to go to school. He was a poli-sci major and he was smart and sexy and I had it bad for him. A few others did as well. The thing about Ron was that it was unlikely he was ever gonna settle down with one girl. I didn't figure that out until much later, though. Ron and I dated, very briefly, and, for reasons I'm not gonna go into here, thought it was best to stay friends instead. Looking back now, it was one of the smartest decisions I could have ever made. As Ron and I were the best of friends for several years. Certainly, all through college. He was always there for me. And he literally saved my life once. But that's fodder for another day. Ron was the lucky winner of the Tammy's Virginity Lottery. One fateful night in the backseat of his car. What was playing on the radio? Meatloaf's, "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad". How's that for irony? No regrets, though.
When my ex and I first started dating, he did the one (okay, there were three or four) romantic thing he's ever done for me. I was at his house one night. We'd been drinking and he was very, very drunk. I was just getting ready to leave, when he asked me to stay...just for a minute. He went and picked an album out of his extensive collection and put it on the turntable, led me to a chair and bade me sit down. Which I did. He took my hand in his, dropped to one knee and, though he slurred and warbled all the way through it, sang the entire lyrics to Art Garfunkle's version of "I Only Have Eyes for You". It was a moment, to be sure. And I still am taken back there every time I hear that song.
While other mother's rocked their infant children with standard lullabies, I crooned to my babes something a little different. The Beatles, "All You Need is Love". I started doing it with my first and it felt so natural and she responded so well to it (likely because it was so comfortable to me), that I continued it with the others as well. So, now, when I hear it, I feel very maternal. And I'm delivered back to a rocking chair, complete with visions of holding a very small child close to me. It's warm and safe and so full of love. It's always a very nice association.
To bring that full circle, the next emotionally charged event in my life was my separation and eventual divorce. There were actually two songs that seemed to find their way to me. Funny how music does that sometimes. You hear lyrics and they seem to have been written specifically for you. For what you are going through at that moment. And while I have no doubt that those same lyrics had different meanings for a million other people at that same instant, it was as if the artist's had written their songs for me. The first one was Linkin Park's "Numb". With lyrics like
Can't you see that you're smothering me
Holding too tightly afraid to lose control
Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
And every second I waste is more than I can take
it just seemed to be everything I was feeling. And then, not long after, Kelly Clarkson's song, "Breakaway", soothing me with promises of making a wish, taking a chance, making a change and breaking away. Both of them helped to empower me at a time when I felt so little control.
Lastly, when Highlander and I started seeing that, despite 850 miles between us, we were beginning to feel romantically about each other, he mentioned to me that there was a song (actually there was more than one, but this is the one that most struck a chord with both of us) that made him think of me. It was Aerosmith's, "Don't Wanna Miss A Thing". He would send me emails with little snippets of lyrics from the song. And we began to make plans for him to come here. To quit missing all the smiles, all the laughter, all of the things that were going on in my life while I was here and he was there. The song reminds me of him, of course, but even moreso, it reminds me of that time. Of both of us being a little scared. Feeling like it couldn't be as good as we thought it would. (Okay, that was probably me, more than him.) It was the "Happily Ever After" music. And it always will be, to me.
It got me started thinking about all the special songs in my life. Trying to see how many I could just recall. There are bunches. That's what happens when you live this long. Anyhow, I thought I'd share a few of them, that, while they may not be great songs, inhabit a special corner of my heart. Feel free to share yours with me.
I would say they are in no particular order, but I found myself doing a chronological thing, so I'll stick with it.
My youngest is missing both of her upper front teeth right now. Pretty cute stuff...in a grisly sort of way. But, when I was not much older than her, and shared that anatomical distinction, I can remember riding in my dad's wood panelled station wagon. I can't remember where we were going, but "Winchester Cathedral" was playing on the radio. And when it got to the part of the song where they whistle, he asked me to give it a go. Teasing me, of course. But, I showed him. I was able to do it. Everyone in the car cracked up. If I hear it when I'm alone, I'll still whistle. But even if people are with me, I smile a little smile and think about doing it.
During the summer between my high school and college years, I ran around with three very close friends - Rhonda M., Denise (DeeDee) F. and Paula (P.J.) B. DeeDee and I (who have known each other since our freshman year in high school) are actually still pretty close. Anyway, that summer, the four of us were determined to get into as much trouble as any four relatively straight-laced nerd girls could get into. Which was a little. But not nearly as much as we were asking for. We spent a great deal of time riding around in Rhonda's 1968 black Mustang. It was a rockin' car. Except for the missing back floor board. We had dubbed it the Flintstone-mobile, because if you had to sit in the back seat, you could stick your feet through the holes in the floor and push-start the car, kinda like Fred and Barney did in the cartoon. We never actually tried it though. Most of that summer, we burned up two 8-tracks (that's right. I said 8-tracks) in Rhonda's car. And there were two songs that were our anthems. Meatloaf's "Bat Out of Hell" and Olivia Newton John's "Totally Hot". I'm still a fan of quite a few songs on that Meatloaf album, but I'm pretty sure there is no way in HELL I could stand to listen to "Totally Hot" again. Okay, if I ran across it, by some bizarre coincidence (nobody was playing it then...not likely they'd be playing it now), I might give it five or ten seconds. But, that would be it. We chased an awful lot of boys that summer. Some of us even caught a few...;)
My freshman year at college, brought with it my first serious beau, Ron. Ron was a very handsome man. He was three years older than me, but he was a freshman as well. His dad had recently died and he was taking advantage of the social security benefits to go to school. He was a poli-sci major and he was smart and sexy and I had it bad for him. A few others did as well. The thing about Ron was that it was unlikely he was ever gonna settle down with one girl. I didn't figure that out until much later, though. Ron and I dated, very briefly, and, for reasons I'm not gonna go into here, thought it was best to stay friends instead. Looking back now, it was one of the smartest decisions I could have ever made. As Ron and I were the best of friends for several years. Certainly, all through college. He was always there for me. And he literally saved my life once. But that's fodder for another day. Ron was the lucky winner of the Tammy's Virginity Lottery. One fateful night in the backseat of his car. What was playing on the radio? Meatloaf's, "Two Out of Three Ain't Bad". How's that for irony? No regrets, though.
When my ex and I first started dating, he did the one (okay, there were three or four) romantic thing he's ever done for me. I was at his house one night. We'd been drinking and he was very, very drunk. I was just getting ready to leave, when he asked me to stay...just for a minute. He went and picked an album out of his extensive collection and put it on the turntable, led me to a chair and bade me sit down. Which I did. He took my hand in his, dropped to one knee and, though he slurred and warbled all the way through it, sang the entire lyrics to Art Garfunkle's version of "I Only Have Eyes for You". It was a moment, to be sure. And I still am taken back there every time I hear that song.
While other mother's rocked their infant children with standard lullabies, I crooned to my babes something a little different. The Beatles, "All You Need is Love". I started doing it with my first and it felt so natural and she responded so well to it (likely because it was so comfortable to me), that I continued it with the others as well. So, now, when I hear it, I feel very maternal. And I'm delivered back to a rocking chair, complete with visions of holding a very small child close to me. It's warm and safe and so full of love. It's always a very nice association.
To bring that full circle, the next emotionally charged event in my life was my separation and eventual divorce. There were actually two songs that seemed to find their way to me. Funny how music does that sometimes. You hear lyrics and they seem to have been written specifically for you. For what you are going through at that moment. And while I have no doubt that those same lyrics had different meanings for a million other people at that same instant, it was as if the artist's had written their songs for me. The first one was Linkin Park's "Numb". With lyrics like
Can't you see that you're smothering me
Holding too tightly afraid to lose control
Cause everything that you thought I would be
Has fallen apart right in front of you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
Every step that I take is another mistake to you
(Caught in the undertow just caught in the undertow)
And every second I waste is more than I can take
it just seemed to be everything I was feeling. And then, not long after, Kelly Clarkson's song, "Breakaway", soothing me with promises of making a wish, taking a chance, making a change and breaking away. Both of them helped to empower me at a time when I felt so little control.
Lastly, when Highlander and I started seeing that, despite 850 miles between us, we were beginning to feel romantically about each other, he mentioned to me that there was a song (actually there was more than one, but this is the one that most struck a chord with both of us) that made him think of me. It was Aerosmith's, "Don't Wanna Miss A Thing". He would send me emails with little snippets of lyrics from the song. And we began to make plans for him to come here. To quit missing all the smiles, all the laughter, all of the things that were going on in my life while I was here and he was there. The song reminds me of him, of course, but even moreso, it reminds me of that time. Of both of us being a little scared. Feeling like it couldn't be as good as we thought it would. (Okay, that was probably me, more than him.) It was the "Happily Ever After" music. And it always will be, to me.
posted by SuperWife | 12:49 AM
6 Comments:
I hate you having no comments anywhere. It ain't right, Jack. I'm tellin' you it just ain't right.
Say, do you know where my Elvis Costello CD got to?
Never mind, I found it. "Well, it's so funny to be seein' you after so long, girl..."
Thanks again, baby. I love you.
The piece was well-written and evocative, but it didn't seem right and proper for me to offer comments on such personal associations. While I have several instances of the same temporally-transporting power of songs, I haven't been in a frame of mind to want to share them... hence me reading and enjoying, but not commenting.
I do agree with H, though, that seeing no comments on this post seems wrong. When I read it I'd expected it to be one that would evoke examples from most readers.
One thing I'd note is that my suspicion, especially for those in the 35+ age range, is that the average person will have at least one such strong connection involving a Beatles song. Penny Lane would definitely be one such instance for me.
Ahhh, pity comments. And so soon. Alas, I am not easily shamed and will be grateful for them nonetheless. So, I shall thank you, Highlander and Mike N.
I was hoping, quite a bit actually, Mike, that several folks would stick at least one memorable tune up here. Curious, as I am about human nature, I'd love to know the songs and associations that others have.
It's a topic that almost has to trigger one or more memories in almost any reader, so our expectations seem solid up to that point.
How it's struck me (this week, at least) is that this is one of those topics I find myself (strangely?) guarded about. Good conversation material between good friends or anonymous strangers, but not a degree of revelation I want to make publicly with an umbilicus linking it to me.
Still, hey, sometimes I've been surprised how an old topic resurfaces. The post is posted and others may find it even once it scrolls off the main page.
See, I'm with Mike on the idea of opening myself up that publicly. I'm not sure who else reads this, and sometimes personal stuff is best left personal. Also, I too, enjoyed it very much, but felt that a comment would sully it somehow, like a fingerprint on a freshly frosted wedding cake.
I'd have to agree with Mike's assessment that ust 35+ers will have at least one Beatles song in this category too. That said, I have to admit that my exposure to music as a child was extremely limited, and music really did not affect my life until about 18. Sadly, my childhood had no soundtrack.
About the only song that has resonance with me is a Garth Brooks song that was in the movie Hope Floats, because an ex liked it and whenever I hear it ... well, it makes me sad, and angry, and resentful, and filled with regret and a longing for the waters of Lethe.
To this day, music has little to no grasp on me. I own dozens if not hundreds of albums, but my stereo lies mute 99.999% of the time, quietly gathering dust. The only time I really enjoy listening to music is when I'm driving or when it is performed live. Other than that it is mainly just background noise.
Oh, well, so much for privacy.
I totally agree that a song will bring you back. I have to admit I don't listen to adult music as much as I would like. The kids always want the disney channel radio station or to watch a movie. I relish in the minutes that by myself with my own music. my 7 year old loves Green Day.
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