Category: childhood

Thursday’s Theme Music

It’s Thanksgiving in the United States today, a holiday imbued with myths and traditions, and many memories for someone like me.

I have some wonderful Thanksgiving memories. Mom worked hard to make holidays a success — except Mother’s Day (yeah, d’uh, she took the day off, didn’t she?) — and Thanksgiving was always terrific at her house. Later, in the military, my wife took on the same role. Overseas, she coordinated and orchestrated Thanksgiving dinner among several families, and we always invited the single people to come over so they felt less alone.

I benefited from that, too. My Uncle and his family had me over for Thanksgiving when I was in basic training, saving me from a chowhall dinner. I had a great time with them. There were other Thanksgivings with co-workers’ families a few times when I was stationed overseas on temporary unaccompanied duty, like the time with Tony’s family in the Philippines. There were also a couple chowhall Thanksgivings, though.

All that brought the Alan Parsons Project song, “Time” (1981). It came out the year that we reported for duty in Germany. We lived off based that first year, and it was one of the times when it was just my wife and I. It was still memorable.

Why “Time”? Because of the lines, “But time keeps flowing like a river, to the sea.”

Yep, although it does make me think, there’s a sea of time out there, somewhere.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

“Don’t Let the Sun Go Down On Me” by Elton John and Bernie Taupin was released in 1974. I’ve been hearing a live cover by George Michael, with Elton John as his guest (1991) at the coffee shop. Naturally, it ended up stuck in the stream, looping around a few times.

There are many memories associated with the song (like dances, kisses, and good-byes). It came out right after I graduated high school and went into the military, so it’s branded as part of that era, that transition from teenager living at home to adult on their own. As the Michael version came out during my final tour, it almost exactly bracketed my military career. Just a little coincidence, but one that ends up attaching sentiments to the song for me.

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Snow Memories

As an adult, snow and I share a difficult relationship. Snow wants to do what it’ll do, and I prefer that it doesn’t disturb my routines. I think these things even knowing that snow is necessary for the snowpack that provides us water throughout the year (so go up in the mountains and snow heavy there, right?) and some of our local industries (like the ski lodge on Mount Ashland) depends on the snow.

But a day of blinding, fat flurries (like today — look out that window — how can you not?) always takes me back to snow memories, especially childish times. When I was a boy in school, seeing snow outside the windows was a harbinger of entertaining times like snowball fights, forts, and sledding. Snow diffused daylight, blending night and day into a special, secret zone of being. Snow muffled the sounds and tamped adult activities, leaving the world to us, the brave, the crazy, the children. Interruptions would arrive – cars stuck on hills, tires spinning in a whining hiss, vehicles with chains clanging past, snowplows grinding by, building new boundaries of small mountains alongside the roads.

Après outings were coming into a warm house where boots, mittens, and layers of frozen soaked clothes were shed. All had to be hung, put onto radiators or into dryers, depending on the era and house. Hot chocolate with marshmallows and cookies were offered, or tomato soup with grilled cheese sandwiches (white bread and American cheese, in those days) with a dill pickle.

Evening would come with a hesitant stillness, slipping in like it didn’t want to disturb the world. Books were read, drawings were completed, games played, television watched. Popcorn and fudge was made. The television was watched for news — would there be more snow? Will school be cancelled tomorrow? (Fingers crossed, breath held, eyes big as the news was awaited.) And more gazing out the window, at the amazing white world and the wonders of snow, were indulged.

Young and innocent, protected and secure, playful and happy. Everyone should enjoy such a life.

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Saturday’s Theme Music

Looking at the stars last night on a beautifully clear night, I thought of David Bowie’s “Ziggy Stardust” (1972). Love this video of David and his band – look at that fine young dude.

Good times.

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Thursday’s Theme Music

I was walking toward my writing location today, a coffee shop owned by others, yes, but it’s my usual place, and thinking about what I was going to write. Boom days have continued, which is always a pleasure. So I told myself to just keep chugging along.

Then I plugged that into an old standard, “I just keep chugging along, singing my song, side by side.” Well, naturally, that prompted me to remember the song, “Side By Side” into my stream. Coming out before my Mom was born, leave off me, it’s one of those songs that’ve been part of the national consciousness for decades. There’s no doubt that I know it from my mother singing it, sometimes to me, sometimes to herself, and sometimes as it played on the record player.

The song’s real lyrics vary from cover to cover, but travel is almost always used, not chug, and not plug, but I like to plug in chug and plug instead of travel. The lyrics often go, “We’ll travel along, singing our song, side by side.” Of course, it was just me and my muses, and no one else beside me when I chug along, unless you count my shadow.

But “Me and My Shadow” is another song altogether.

Here is Patsy Cline with her cover of the 1927 song, “Side By Side”.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Today’s song penetrated the stream with no obvious reason. No memories or brain cells are standing up to say, “I did it. It was me.” Investigations and research have ended with no solid leads.

The song came out in 1961. I was five. Don’t know if I heard it that year, but I’ve heard it a buncha times later. You probably know it, too. It’s still in my head, and I need to get it out, so I’m foisting it on others.

Here’s Del Shannon with “Runaway”.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

News stories stayed with me late yesterday as I finished walking and headed home. Too many tales about murders and suicides, impeachment and politics, wars and disease. It all felt a little heavy.

Some lyrics stole into my stream:

Been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gonna come, oh yes it will

It’s been too hard living, but I’m afraid to die
‘Cause I don’t know what’s up there beyond the sky

I couldn’t remember more of the song, and worked on that as I reached home and made lunch. Other pieces came in but not enough for attribution. It seemed like an old song. I was finally forced to Google to find it.

There it was, Sam Cooke, “A Change Is Gonna Come”, from 1964. It’s dismaying to think of that song being written in the early sixties because of what he endured in Shrevesport, LA, one night. How humans treat others because of their differences remains a sad situation. We’ve made some progress on this, but we’ve also slid backwards. At times like these, I fall back on Parker’s quote, “The arc of the moral universe is long but bends toward justice.” Parker was a clergyman in the 1800s. I always thought the quote belonged to Martin Luther King, Jr., but I found in reading that he was quoting another.

No matter who first said it, it endures. As Sam Cooke wrote and sang,

It’s been a long, a long time coming
But I know a change gon’ come, oh yes it will

I’m indebted to Metrolyrics.com, Songfacts.com, and Wikipedia.org for refreshing my memory.

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Sunday’s Theme Music

Today’s song popped out of nowhere into my stream, nowhere being an easy reference to the interior realms of the space where my little gray brain cells huddle for warmth. But overhearing the women across the coffee shop talking (powerful stage voices), the song is appropriate.

“Changes” by David Bowie (1972) was already nestled in my cerebellum when I sat down but I wasn’t sure if it was today’s music. Then I heard the women talking.

First, they mentioned streaming services. They were comparing Netflix and Amazon Prime (or Prime Video), and how they share and release shows and movies on their sights. Talking about Amazon Prime prompted one to mention the free two-day shipping on many items, and the associated guarantees. A joke about getting stuff faster so you would order more faster emerged. Memories about ordering stuff in the old days and getting it six to eight weeks followed. It usually came by mail, too. UPS and Fed Ex trucks weren’t rushing around every where in those days.

Then they talked about catalogs. Spiegel’s. Sears. Montgomery Wards. Ah, yes, they’d ordered from all of them, and had fond memories of ordering from the Spiegel’s calendar. (I’ve ordered from them all, too, especially when I lived outside of the U.S. in the 1970s.) The women then recollected tales of the outhouse where the Sears catalog sometimes ended up, as those thin pages worked well to clean up after your business.

Last, they recalled S&H Green Stamps and using a sponge to paste pages at a time.

Yep, “Changes” is appropriate for today, from the weather and the seasons, to the music and the times, and how long it takes for your order to arrive.

I decided to use this Youtube offering of “Changes” because of Bowie’s photo. Look at the lad. Ah, changes.

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Wednesday’s Theme Music

Someone’s overheard comment (complaint) about their daily-weekly-monthly routines about doing the same thing and wondering where have all the good times gone brought home today’s theme music.

I’ve selected “Where Have All The Good Times Gone” for today, and went with the Van Halen cover (1982). A friend of mine who was a big VH fan liked this song but thought it was a little simple. I told him that I thought it was better than the Kinks’ version, which was the original, from somewhere in the mid-sixties. (Turned out to be from 1965.) He wasn’t aware that it was a cover, thinking that it was a VH original, but decided, that’s why it was such a simple song.

On reflection, each version represents how pop rock sounded at the time of their release.

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Tuesday’s Theme Music

Yesterday, someone said, “I waste too much time. Every night, I think of the things that I wanted to do that I didn’t do, and think of the time that I wasted.”

I didn’t agree or disagree. I understand what’s he saying. When he said he was wasting time, he meant that he’d planned to accomplish things that day and didn’t. He did other things instead. In answer to my question about that, he said, “Read, watched the news, read more, ate and drank beer.” He laughed.

Was it really wasted time? No, just not time used as planned. But people get the sense they’re running out of time. They’re coming up on deadlines, end of life, a new week, month, or season.

I’ve drifted away from that. Part of my drift is because so much of what’s on our lists are impermanent matters given amplified importance. You got to sort through these things and decide what’s really important, and what’s just being driven by the ghosts of the past called tradition, or the demons of expectations.

Meanwhile, the conversation naturally kicked a song into the stream. Several, in fact. One that surprised me leaped in from 1972 and an album called Eat A Peach, when I was sixteen. That Allman Brothers album, released after Duane Allman’s death, had a lock in my playlist for over a year, joining another Allman Brothers favorite, At Fillmore East, a double live album.

The song that jumped out was, “Ain’t Wastin’ Time No More”. It really came, again, as I stepped out and called in a cat last night. I looked up for the stars. The cat was right there, but clouds obscured the stars. From there came the song’s lines,

Lord, lord Miss Sally, why all your cryin’?
Been around here three long days, you’re lookin’ like you’re dyin’.
Just step yourself outside, and look up at the stars above
Go on downtown baby, find somebody to love.

ht to AZLyrics.com

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