Memory Lane

Sitting here late in the evening, I am listening to a veritable catalogue of the musical sins of my past. Country, jazz, pop, disco, samba, rock & roll, classical, church music and some really jammin' stuff from bygone days.

I have eclectic tastes. So sue me.

Although I am no longer 29, I still like the music that made me happy then. And the 18 year old who is desperately trying to work her way out of the old woman who has trapped her inside can't get enough of Steely Dan.

Between my sordid affliction centered around various country music that defines portions of my psyche and the hard driving guitar rock that I love to jack the speakers to the max for that concert experience, there is a plethora of other music that fills in the gaps between my moments of sanity and madness.

Like an oasis in the desert, I have some classical music that provides the soul watering and refreshing strains of inspired hands that penned the notes which calm and soothe on days that are less than wonderful. On long nights when I cannot find rest and sleep has fled as a thief in the night, I turn on the selections that are my guarantee to peace, if not always to rest.

On days that the wild inside wants to reach out, I love the hard edged music of the rock and roll selections in my collection. I'd like to say I can stop anytime. But that is like eating only one potato chip and sanguinely placing the bag away 'for another day'. Lacking both the belief that someone has that kind of willpower and absolutely knowing that I don't possess that sort of restraint, I turn the sound up as loudly as circumstances allow and grab the secret drumsticks that I have hidden all over my desk. I have several pair that are used - all dependent upon mood and music.

Old and flabby I may be, but a really kicking drum part to play along with can be as much of a workout as my weights. And sweat flies while I find the groove that I once played about a million years ago.

Now, I can't remember the complex sticking nor the patterns of the rhythms on the cymbals and bass drum that required the independent thought of hands and feet separate from each other in a harmony of music provided by one person.

When I am old, dotty and in a wrapper somewhere at the Pleasant Gardens of Senility Nursing Home, I hope someone will make sure my iPod stays charged up with my music stuffed on it to keep me going.

By then, they may have some sort of beaming technology that provides a virtual jukebox for me to enjoy. Who knows?

My dear husband got me a turntable for Christmas and not only can I play the pile of records I have in a big box, but I can make them into mp3 files and jettison the original records to fans of the DeFranco Family on Ebay.

The only question I have is how much should I charge for the gems of musical miscreant behavior in my collection? Everything from the Doobies to Olivia Newton-John, the Mo Tab to the Eagles and stuff I just won't put out for public consumption.

"Suddenly I See" by kt tunstall is currently playing. Good song. I like the feel of the song. It just makes me happy.

Maybe that is why my music collection is so odd. It's just the music I like from my past that reminds me of sunny days on the back of a Harley touring the backroads or the lazy afternoons that I was spending with someone special. There's the inevitable breakup music that reminds me just why I ended things with one particular guy that I still get worked up when I hear it. better than 25 years later and I could still slap the ever loving snot out of him if I saw him.

There is the music that was played at our wedding reception when my husband and I stood in the receiving line doing the typical meet and greet wanting nothing so much more than to just cut and run. Hee hee! That would have been SO cool to do, but the sense of propriety kept us there shaking hands, hugging and kissing people for hours. But the music was good.

Got some David Sanborn, which hubby says is 'makeout music', on the docket for later on.

So much of my life is defined by the music that was in the background when something happened that was memorable or significant in some way.

To this good day I hate one particular song because it was playing on the radio when my cat was hit by the neighbor's car. And all these many years later, when I hear that song, I am 11 years old and mourning my cat all over again.

Then, there are others that take me to times that I was studying for finals and the music floated out of the speakers lulling me away for a break so that I could come back refreshed and ready to remember just what function the spleen actually has.

I think it was the cartoon "The Emporer's New Groove" where one of the characters is going along humming their own theme music. I just loved that idea!! Maybe other people do too, and that is why we like our little personalized theme music playing on our iPods or other devices to carry us through the moments of our lives.

The one thing I truly feel sorry for deaf people to miss is the good music out there in the world. While there are conversations and loving words that are great to hear, they seem to be eclipsed by the music that accompanies our daily life. I may well be wrong about that idea, but it works for me because I can't always remember what people tell me.

I may be ready for that room at the nursing home sooner than I'd like to think. All I know is that I want to have my theme music with me. It won't change my circumstances, but it will change my mood.

That's the attraction right there. The music makes the moods.