(Awesomeness awaits at the end of this post - I promise!)
This week, I innocently created a new station on Pandora radio titled ‘Pearl Jam.’ Nothing notable about it . . . or so I thought. But within an hour or so, it was clear that the music geniuses that create the play lists had somehow managed to raid my mixed tape collection from high school, essentially creating a soundtrack to my past.
This week, I innocently created a new station on Pandora radio titled ‘Pearl Jam.’ Nothing notable about it . . . or so I thought. But within an hour or so, it was clear that the music geniuses that create the play lists had somehow managed to raid my mixed tape collection from high school, essentially creating a soundtrack to my past.
I am so not kidding.
There I was, a thirty-something adult driving a respectable
sedan to my respectable day-job one minute, and the next I was the sixteen-year-old
girl I had been half a lifetime ago, zipping around in my ancient Mazda GLC.
Back then, the windows would be rolled down in deference to the scorching
Kentucky summer heat, while the synthetic gray lambswool seat covers stuck to
my legs and my hair whipped around my face. Headed to the pool for my lifeguard job,
to meet my friends at the Dairy Queen for an oreo blizzard, or just enjoying my
first real taste of freedom; I went wherever the wind blew and the $4 in my
gas tank would take me.
As the songs kept coming, so did the memories. To this day, I can’t hear a Smashing Pumpkins song without
thinking of my husband when we were a couple of kids, hanging out in his
parents’ basement. Back then, I was so dog gone in love with that boy, my every
sense would be attuned to him as we sat inches apart on the cool leather couch,
pretending to watch a movie on his state of the art big screen TV.
I remember riding in my friend Becky’s teal Mustang
convertible, a pair of girls ready to experience all the world had to
offer as we shouted along with the blaring radio. There were boys, a few
parties, and the occasional trip to the lake. It was those trips that reveal to me everything that I would
eventually want out of life: living on the water, good friends to share a meal
and a laugh with, and of course Kirk, my future husband. Sitting on the dock at
dusk, listening to the frogs and crickets as lightening bugs emerged for their
daily dance while soft music filtered from beneath the boat cover—to this day there are few things that make me happier.
In those days, I looked to the future and wondered what it
held for me. As water lapped at the boats and dusk descended, I’d lay back and
envision the years ahead. It was always murky, like shadowy figures through a
fogged window, taunting me with its nearness and the shear vastness of
possibilities.
Now, as I listen to the songs of my youth - to Nirvana, Pearl
Jam, and Stone Temple Pilots - I can’t help but smile. I’m in that perfect place
in life when I have the luxury of looking back with happy nostalgia, while
still being able to look forward with that same sense of wonder. Will the music
I listen to today evoke that same ethereal sense of reminiscence? Will Adele
come on the radio fifteen years from now, and make me shake my head in
amazement at how it was when I first embarked on my writing career? Will the
Zach Brown Band always remind me of that perfect moment in time when I first
sold, and the world was my oyster?
I hope so. Music has a way of tugging the heartstrings like
few things can. A whiff of an elusive scent or the taste of a long forgotten
treat can have a similar effect, but I think music may be even better. It can
embody a day, a year, or even a decade. It can define a period in our lives
like nothing else, and it can forever sear a moment in our minds.
James Taylor will always make me think of the weekend I
realized I was falling in love with my husband when we were seventeen. If The Devil Went Down To Georgia should
ever come on the radio, I’ll think of me and my friend Jared on graduation
night, karaoke-ing with the best of them. Sweet
Home Alabama was playing on the tinny speakers of my husband’s old car the
first time we said ‘I love you.’ I can’t hear Brown-Eyed Girl without thinking of Young Life, and all the fun
times I had Wednesday nights when I was sixteen.
And now, thanks to my brother, I have a new song that will
forever transport me to all the excitement, wonder, and strife that went along
with writing my first book. Many of you have already heard the song (a free
download here), but now that many of you have read or are
reading my debut, I wonder – do you know what scene Andy was inspired by when
he wrote the piano piece that accompanies MORE THAN A STRANGER?
Well, I’ve made a little music video, so to speak, to go
along with the song. I hope you enjoy! And when you’ve finished watching it, I
want to know: What song stands out most in your memories? When you think of
high school, what music comes to mind?
