A couple of years ago, I discovered a wonderful post titled Six Songs, by Moondancer on her blog, Just…..a wee bit. It was a sublime and eloquent piece speaking to the power of music upon memory and one’s emotions. Sadly, the post no longer appears online (or I cannot find it). Taoist wisdom always seems to rear its head: things change, but life goes on. Outside of the potent sense of smell, music/song has always been a memory trigger for me, as well. Other friends responded with their six-song lists back then, and I see the meme continues (in one form or another) to this day. The most recent variation I stumbled on would be here.
If you gave it some thought, what would your six songs be…
Even though she posed the question more than two years ago, I find the list of six that I’d put together back then is still in effect. I find it milestones significant events in my life with a connection that remains very clear. So, I’ll reprise it here:
It’s All in the Game (1958), my mother’s favorite song; and when I hear it now, even decades later, I cannot help but think of the wonderful woman who bore me…
It’s Too Late (1971), my junior year of high school and it was this song that marked a shift in my heart’s outlook (and toward the girl who was a H.S. senior at the time, who shall remain nameless, here — as my wife eventually reads all of my posts).
Dust in the Wind (1977), this song played on the radio as I left and drove home from St. Francis Medical Center in March ’78 after I learned my mother wouldn’t be with us for much longer… Though I wanted desperately to change or turn off the radio, somehow I couldn’t.
Silhouette (1988), the same year I courted my future bride, this song always seemed to pop up on the radio. The CD eventually found its way into our music collection before our engagement, and it was played at our wedding reception in February of ’89.
Don’t Fear the Reaper (1976), this song introduced the concept of the air guitar to my first-born when he was a barely a toddler some 20 years after it was released. I’d be a course of action (and song) I’d repeat with my daughter just fours years later, in fact. Those living room jam sessions right before bedtime, with the volume up, had the strangest (and most eye-rolling) of reactions for the new mother that was my bride.
I put this out for others to continue.