In the handpainted night
I'm doing something a little different for Friday Fun today. There's this crappy country song I've been hearing that's about how the singer hears all these other songs ("Jack and Diane" and "Only the Good Die Young" get specific mentions) inspire certain memories for him. I think it's called "I Go Back" or something like that. Anyway, since the song got stuck in my head and I kind of like the idea, I thought I'd do music and memories for Friday Fun.
Years and years and years ago, practically before the invention of the wheel, I had a monstrous an all-consuming crush on one of my good friends. It was longstanding and inconvenient and nothing like a secret, I think. I never acted on it or said anything to the crushee in question--I just sighed a lot and wrote many, many, overwrought pages in my journal. It's funny now, and more than a little embarrassing, but at the time it was this all-consuming angst-ridden thing. Anyway, I found out one night that the crushee was going to be going on a date with some chick and of course I was just heartbroken. So to cheer me up, Falstaff and The Ex invite me out to dinner. On the way there, on Southfield right where it turns into an expressway, the radio station began to play Mellencamp's "Key West Intermezzo".
It was such a movie moment. Right when she's there, wallowing in her unrequited love, come the lyrics "Everyone was looking, but I saw you first. . . " The angst! The drama! Good God, I wouldn't be nineteen again for all the money in the world. Anyway, I was a wreck by the time I got to the restaurant. Falstaff and The Ex knew the whole situation, because everyone knew the whole situation, because the whole situation was practically in neon at this point. They expressed appropriate sympathy and told me that they had invited another friend of ours to join us. Guy (he hadn't earned This status yet) would be there in ten minutes.
We had a great time, the four of us, at Rio Bravo. I was laughing again in no time, mostly because we had the worst waitress in the history of service. Falstaff and Guy tried to defend her because she was cute and paid lots of attention to them. The Ex and I were catty and sarcastic and felt our point was amply proved when the waitress walked away while I was talking to her. Then we all went back to my place, and Guy hung around until the wee smalls talking about life, the universe, everything.
For a long time, whenever I heard that song, I'd think of that night. I'd be back on Southfield trying not to cry and thinking What does it take to get you to notice me, dammit? I'm right here and I've been here for years and don't that give me the right to move around your heart?
But as time went on, something strange happened. I'd hear that song, and I'd remember that night, but I wouldn't remember the sad and the crushee. I'd remember the crappy waitress, my friends cheering me up, This Guy sitting in the doorway of the foyer because he didn't want to take his shoes off and walk on the white carpet. I remember the sweater he was wearing, the original blue "Old Irish Guy" hat, the blue coat with the horn buttons and the busted zipper, the fact that he was wearing the brown shoes that would be known soon as the shoes with the grotto wax spot on them, but I am almost certain this was before the grotto wax dropped onto them. He had long hair, pulled back in a ponytail and it looked good on him.
There's a poem by Christina Rossetti about not remembering the day two people met. "If only I could recollect it, such/A day of days! I let it come and go/As traceless as the thaw of bygone snow." I don't know anything about the day This Guy and I met. It was freshman year of high school and nobody told me to make note of the quiet guy in the corner of my English class. I don't know if it was raining or if I was having good hair. But the night I heard "Key West Intermezzo" and talked to This Guy until three, it was clear with a gibbous moon and my hair was pulled back in a twist that looked kind of good, but not great. It's a good night to remember, a better moment than the first day of high school, because if I had to pick a moment when This Guy and I took our first step on a road that could have gone anywhere but ended up here? It was then. That night. Right there.
She whispers in his ear, "Boy, you are my star."
So that's a song that takes me back, and that's where it takes me back to. Friday Fun is interactive, remember? So give me a song and the moment it takes you back to. It doesn't have to be a "soundtrack" moment where the song is right there playing, it can just be something that reminds of you a moment. I look forward to reading these.
10 comments:
You mean I have to pick just one song and memory of the many running through my head? Not possible, but I will restrict it to only a few...
Every Rose Has It's Thorn (I actually have 2 memories tied to this one) The first? During the gulf war I was attending a protestant school that went K-12. We were sitting in the lunchroom waiting for school to start, and one of the seniors was playing it on the piano - yeah I know it wasn't written for the piano, but he did a really good job of adapting it - it wasn't the only song he played, but it was one of the last. The teachers found out he'd been playing rock songs and told him he couldn't play at all anymore.
The other memory related to that song? Riding home from DC with Falstaf cramping beyond words, waiting for my pain meds to take effect he asked me to pick a disk that sounded interesting - that was the first song I remember actually hearing.
On a different note, Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx. Compueek and I had actually broken up right before his trip to Europe with the high school band. I saw him off at the airport and gave his class ring to his mom. When he got home, one of the first things he did was come over to my house to give me back the ring I had given him... along with a letter a whole page long and the entire song written out on the second page. I cried. It was heartwrenching torture and he made me read every word of every line before he would even allow me to speak to him.
I could go on - Kokomo, and the kid in 5th grade who used to sing it to me, Welcome to the Jungle and the fight with my neice if she played that song *one more time*, an entire album of Bon Jovi and the summer that was the only cassette the same neice owned so we listened to it over and over - yeah, I could write a novel on songs and different memories they evoke, music has been an integral part of my life for as long as I can remember, but I won't... Not today, anyway.
Fertility Goddess
~2004-10-11 09:11
first let me say, "Opps!!"
umm, sorry, i've been kinda busy . . . i think we all know how that goes, right?
as to the song, there is only one song that has a strongly associated memory for me, Right Here Waiting by Richard Marx. it was the summer of '92, and i was on the concert tour of europe, Fertility Goddess and i had broken up, very painfully, and i was struggling to let go. it wasn't working. we were in italy, no concert the next morning so we were all staying up later and ... (you fill in, we were probably doing that too). this is where my memory gets fuzzy. i think someone had brought a cassette tape with the song on it. that is the only song i remember hearing that night. as i listened, my resolve, my stubbornness, my heart, all shattered. in tears, i wrote FG a letter, finally able to let go. in that letter, i told her that i would always love her, and that i would let her go because of that. she wouldn't be bothered by me again. i also wrote the lyrics of the song in that letter. i think that is the only time i've ever been able to remember the lyrics to any song without having the music playing somewhere (even if only in my mind) and actually singing them. as i finished the letter, i had a new resolve. i would put the letter in the mail and then simply get lost. i wasn't going to return to the states. it would be easier on both of us if we just never saw each other again. the hotel we were at didn't have a mail box, and wasn't in a town; we were up in a mountain resort (those who have been there will know which one). so i would have to wait until the next town and hotel but that would work out nicely. i'd send the letter in the next town and a few days later i was meeting relatives that live in germany -- so it would be no problem to put up with them for a few days at least to get my bearings in my new homeland. i could finally say goodbye to pain and suffering and start fresh. obviously (to those that know me anyway) that didn't happen.in the next town, i didn't get around to finding the post office. or the next town. or the next one. and then i was sitting down to dinner with my relatives ... and never mentioned needing to stay a few days ... or needing to find a post office ... and they were driving me back to the hotel, and what little of my new resolve was left screamed, "NOW OR NEVER!!" ... and i said nothing about it. my new resolve failed and died in that moment. i was going home and i hadn't even sent the letter. i ended up delivering the letter in person and i made her read it before letting her speak. it was one of the most painful moments of our lives, but at the same time i think it was also a turning point for us. i know i realized i could never be complete without her because she completes me. now whenever i hear Right Here Waiting, my eyes tear up and i remember how much i love her and how much i'd be willing to go through for her.
CompuGeek
The only lyrics bouncing through my head right now are "Movin' on up..." The theme from the Jefferson's for those who don't know it.
I am currently sitting in my brand new office, on the 13th floor, staring at my phenomenal view of NYC's harbor and financial district!
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa, how sweet it is!
NJ
Ah, so many to choose from. Mirco had a few good ideas, but I've since forgotten them, but here's a couple from the top of my head.
"Don't Get Me Wrong" -- The Pretenders
It's a little known fact, but many of my favorite 80s songs I don't really remember from the 80s. This is one I vaguely remember from the 80s, but best remember it from my days at the Alma Mater. It was on the 1st CD I ever bought, before I even HAD a CD player. Before I started on my English papers, which were generally all-nighters, I began by reading stuff/goofing on the Internet. I can vividly remember the comp lab at DeBart from 9-11pm sitting in the back of the Mac section jamming on this and reading Ranma fanfics on the USENET. Good times.
"Rag Doll" -- Areosmith
This was the big song on Power 103 and WZZQ, I think, the summer I was twelve, and every afternoon, my sister and I would hafta take Mirco to the "P - double O - L". To this day, I can STILL smell the cholrine when I hear this song. Actually, I still can to a lesser extent on Def Leppard's -- "Pour Some Sugar On Me", too.
"Only the Good Die Young" -- Billy Joel
Well, the most oustanding memory of this song was when I was blasting this going entirely too fast on 41 north of 47 on the hills and curves around Jungle Park. I think I blew a speaker on my first car doing that. Good times. Where have you gone, Virginia?
"Always Something There to Remind Me" -- whoever...
Don't remember this one from the 80s, I remember it for being played a dozen times on the way up to ND the day after f$u in 1993. This song doesn't remind me of the Alma Mater, tho'. It reminds me of the trip up on a cold and dark November Morning. I particualrly remember driving thru La Paz (I think...) on 31, as every row in our van remarked in turn about how they were putting up Christmas lights. This later became a running gag. Trust me, it was funny if you were there...and really overtired. =)
Flip
Show me a Catholic who doesn't have some kind of "Only the Good Die Young" memory, and I will show you a Presbyterian.
Um... North... I am Catholic and do not have memory one conected to that song, sorry. Are you now going to tell me that I have actually not been part of this demonination for the past 12 1/2 years?
Fertility Goddess
Yes, actually I am. Go out and get Falstaff's big set of Billy Joel CD's, have him drive the Monte out to the parking lot of Mecca at two a.m. on a school night, roll the windows down, crank up "Only the Good Die Young" and sing along at the top of your lungs while dancing like an idiot. Preferably in the rain, if you can manage it.
Alternately, you can get stupid on cheap rum and Ben & Jerry's pints with a close female friend while bitching about men and scrupulously not doing your homework and sing along, again, loud as you can, when it comes on the radio.
Until you do manufacture some kind of sense-memory tied to this song, until it becomes so deeply ingrained in your psyche that the first three notes cause you to scream like a schoolgirl and dive for the volume knob, you are baptised by the merest technicality. You could die tomorrow and at the pearly gates St. Peter will greet you and say "Wow, you've had a pretty good life. Good job, good show, can't wait to have you here--but just one thing, I need you to finish this sentence for me: So come on Virginia, show me a sign . . .?" And then where will you be?
Anytime you'd like to come over and get stupid on rum and coke, let me know - but I won't buy the cheap stuff, I like my pirates. (I'd offer to come to your house, but don't think I could get stupid in front of your parents and ever hope to look them in the eye again)
As if Falstaff would take me anywhere at 2 in the morning just because I asked him to - school night or otherwise! (where the heck is Mecca, anyway?)
Fertility Goddess
~2004-10-13 07:25
umm, i guess that puts me in the same boat as Fertility Goddess, since i have no memory association to Only the Good Die Young, though i can easily finish that line:
So come on, Virginia, show me a sign,
Send up a signal, I'll throw you a line,
That stained glass curtain that you're hiding behind,
Never lets in the sun.
Darling, only the good die young!
and i was raise Catholic for all of my 29 years and 5 days (so far) ...
CompuGeek
"Goodness Gracious, Great Balls Of Fire!!!" That song doesn't remind me of anything in particular, mind you. I was just using the line as an interjection of sorts, as a way of expressing my excitement at the myriad opportunities that this post presents. I think about this exact thing rather often, actually, so I've got plenty of material from which to draw. For all of your sakes, though, I'll try to limit my rambling. Anyway, the CD player is loaded up and ready to spin, so here I go!
"I Could Fall In Love" by Selena
I think that Flip was at once aghast and amused when I bought the album "Dreaming Of You," but I was positively beaming on the inside. You see, some years before, when North and I had first started dating, she took me to dinner at a cozy, little, hole-in-the-wall Mexican restaurant in her home town. Being as interested in making eyes at each other and holding hands as we were in eating our meals, we ended up staying later than the handful of other diners, which set the stage for a moment that could not have been more ideal. As you may have gathered, we were the last couple in the place when our waiter (an absolute angel of a fellow, to whom I am forever grateful) stepped out of the kitchen, having just put on the aforementioned album, and said "This one's for you guys." He also whisked a table out from the middle of the restaurant to give us a place to dance, and dance we did. As it turned out, "I Could Fall In Love" was the first song on the album, and it remains the closest thing to "a song" that North and I have, to this day. At the time, it felt to me like the moment could not have been more perfect and that North and I were somehow living out a scene from an adorably cheesy date movie, and it still feels that way to me. Anyway, I can probably count on one hand the number of truly ideal moments that I've experienced in my life, and that was one.
"It's So Hard To Say Goodbye To Yesterday"
by Boyz II Men
Like one of the songs that follows it on this list, this particular ballad came out at exactly the wrong time for Yours Truly. It had been out just long enough for me to hear it a few times and really start to enjoy it when, as fate would have it, my dog died. Any of you that know me well, of course, know how much I loved that dog. We got Max, a German Shepherd of the most magnificent lineage imaginable, when I was a little bitty guy of four or five years old. The remarkable thing about that was, though, that we didn't really choose him; rather, he chose me. He came bolting out of the puppy pen, knocked me flat on my back (as he would do regularly until I was about eight years old), and proceeded to lick my face as though it were his calling in life. For the next ten years, he was my shadow, my best buddy, and my security blanket all rolled into a 100-pound package. I always knew that, as long as Max was around, nothing bad could possibly happen to me. Heck, back when I was afraid to walk down into the basement and up into the attic, I'd simply send him in ahead of me, knowing that he'd make quick work of any monsters that might be waiting there. He was the biggest, strongest, fastest, smartest, and best-looking dog around these parts; and that's no lie. Everyone that ever met him came away impressed. What's more, though, is that he loved me and I loved him. He was the best dog that any kid could ask for, and I miss him so badly that I'm crying as I write this. I'm not ashamed, either. He was that great a dog.
Well, so much for limiting myself, though I will try to keep things a bit more brief from here on out. "Moving on."
"Lady In Red" by Chris De Burgh
For the first several years of its existence, I couldn't stand this song. I thought that it was overwrought, overplayed, and so on. Then, something magical occurred. At a dance during my senior year of high school, I danced to this song with a lovely young lady in a red dress. I can say with the utmost sincerity that I have been tremendously fond of the song ever since. (I had the good fortune to run into that young lady several years later, and she was more lovely than ever. Actually, I ran into her as I was picking up a really terrific rug that I'd bought for my room. I was carrying it over my shoulder and I was looking quite rugged and dashing at the time. That was a good day.)
"Simple Man" by Lynyrd Skynyrd
If memory serves, Flip and I were driving back to his place after paying a visit to our alma mater, and neither one of us was a happy camper. In fact, we were both awfully far down in the dumps. While leaving campus is always difficult for us Domers, under any circumstances, he and I were troubled for reasons of our own, as well. I was worried sick about North's move to Washington DC, and what that held in store for our relationship; and I seem to recall that Flip's worries were more numerous than mine and weighty in their own rights. In any case, we were rolling down the road in the dying light of a late Autumn day, just brooding and hoping that some DJ would play something to cheer us up. Finally, one did. "Simple Man" proved to be exactly what the doctor ordered, putting us back into the proper state of mind in a matter of minutes. The lyrics were tailor-made for the moment, and that powerful riff really drove them home. Ever since, "Simple Man" has been one of my favorite songs; and, lately, has served to ease my troubled mind again.
"Feels So Good" by Chuck Mangione
I think that this may have been my first "favorite song." My cousins and I always played the record of the same name while our parents played Euchre in the kitchen at my Aunt & Uncle's house. We weren't allowed to go into the kitchen at those times, though we didn't know why . . . and never really asked, that I can recall. We were pretty young in those days and were content to play albums like this one and simply hang out in the living room, playing like little boys do. I do remember wondering what that strange smell was that always seemed to come out of the kitchen at those times. About fifteen years later, at a Barenaked Ladies concert, I finally figured it out. That was a revelation, let me tell you.
"Go Rest High On That Mountain"
by Vince Gill (& Friends)
This is the other song that came out at exactly the wrong time. It was released during my senior year of high school, just after my grandfather passed away, and I swear that it could have been written just for him. I don't want to end up crying again, so I'm going to keep this as short and sweet as I can. My grandfather was born on a farm outside one of the tiniest of all the tiny towns in Kentucky, and he hardly ever left that farm until he went off to serve in WWII, having lied about his age so that he would be allowed to enlist. He served with distinction in the North African and Italian campaigns, earning decorations for valor in combat . . . as well as a leg full of Nazi shrapnel. He never boasted about these things, or anything else for that matter, which made me admire him all the more. Upon his return home, he and my grandmother made their contributions to the baby boom and raised their family in a manner that would have made Norman Rockwell proud. Grandpa always did everything right, no matter what. Everyone's shoes were always polished, everyone always went to church on Sunday, and so on, and so forth. Grandpa was the most decent, kindest man that you could ever hope to meet. I remember that on Sundays, when I was young, my mom, my aunt, my cousins, and I would always go to Grandma & Grandpa's house after church to visit. Grandma would always bring an old coffee can full of cookies out of the cupboard for us and Grandpa would always give us each a dollar before settling in to his old leather chair to smoke his pipe. I think that, until my dying day, I will love the smell of pipe tobacco thanks to my grandfather. Grandpa would always read "The Night Before Christmas" to my cousins and I on Christmas Eve, too, which makes for a very fond memory. The man had an incredible voice, very much like Walter Cronkite's, only better. In short, if I could be half the man that my grandfather was, I'd be one heck of a good guy. Here's to you, Grandpa.
So much for "short and sweet," eh?
"Hymn To Red October"
from The Hunt For Red October Soundtrack
Dad and I would often whistle this tune while fishing from our little red boat . . . which was pulled by our little red van. I'm sure that we confused and perhaps irritated some people by doing so, but we cracked ourselves up for sure, so screw everybody else. (For the record, by the way, I'm not a communist. In fact, I friggin' hate communists, but I do love the old Soviet style of music.)
"We're Not Gonna Take It" by Twisted Sister
Two Words: "Goon Squad." My pals and I, from 1996 to 1999, were members of the rootin'-tootin'-est, rip-roarin'-est gang of hockey hecklers to ever to shout obscenities at the opposition (and the refs, and the press box, and the DJ, and the band, and so on). We were, without a doubt, both the most riotously hilarious and the most venomously derisive crew in college hockey at the time. We became CCHA legends, and this song was one of our anthems.
Well, I'd say that's more than enough for this week. I'd like to bestow an Honorable Mention, though, upon Queen's "Princes Of The Universe," the unofficial theme of my sophomore year at Notre Dame and my 19th year on this earth. That year was a great one, to be sure, and it may never be surpassed. By the way, I'm going to post this without proof-reading it first, so please excuse any errors that you may have noticed. It's just too damned late to re-read this thing two or three times. Later!
This Guy
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