I am not usually the person who is organized, knowing where each and every detail is stored or stacked. But as is the case in most people’s lives there is a caveat to always and only. And for me my homage to order is my music. I know where and when, why and how music has found its way into my personal nickelodeon.
Music has always been a saving grace for me. And when it was or is played loud, sweetly swaying in the quiet of the breeze, a symphony of success, a dirge of misdeed as background instrumental to a very dramatic bit of dialogue or ringing with romance I can tell you stories about each and every note, each and every song.
I am usually very non-savvy when it comes to computers and usually anything more then signing in, writing a blog and reading email is the limit to my technology machinations. If it was not for my partner Joe, I would be listening to cassettes, using an answering machine, and carrying a pad and pen; oh yeah and most likely own a mimeograph machine. But when it comes my music I am a techie from the 25th century and I can do almost anything.
My I-Tune purchased music has a wide range of categories in which I live or has lived. I buy a song and immediately know which of over the 100 categories of choice it belongs. One section is titled REM. It is really Remember (if I am mugged and someone steals my computer I would rather they not know my emotional past) which is a category of music that contains my loves, my adventures, my disappointments, my successes and my first time’s for so many an experience. Music placed in REM is selective and scrutinized. For a song to arrive in REM there is almost an affidavit written in both my heart and soul and must pass the sigh or smile test.
Today I went for for my two mile walk, took my I-Pod and feeling a bit melancholy decided to play music from the REM section. I was half way through my walk laughing, smiling, sighing as each song played and then it happened, “ You Didn’t Have to Be So Nice”, by the Turtles played and try as I might pushing my brain as hard as I could I had no idea why this song was playing in my REM list of music. Okay, I thought, this is a brain freeze. I stopped my walk, usually a taboo, said to myself give it awhile and you will recall. I went on to the next six songs remembering in vast detail where, why and how as they played. I stopped one more time, again an action I frown upon when doing my two mile walk, found “You Didn’t Have To Be So Nice”, hit play and slowly picked up my pace knowing in the next few notes a flood of memory would fill my mind.
And nothing, nada, NOT!
I listened to most of the music in the REM section as I continued my walk, giving myself a test with each bit of music, and to the last note I had little difficulty in understanding its reason for being played. But try as I might and I DID try, I never found the memories attached to “You Didn’t Have To Be So Nice.”
Here I am writing my blog and even as I try to create thoughts as words to place on paper, the back part of my brains is wondering what just happened. I know I added “You Didn’t Have To Be So Nice” for a gamut of reasons. I am sure that when I added that song to my list, some emotion resonated and at the time that emotion was so major, so important. And now it is gone.
It then has me thinking of what it is we consider important at the time, and when in our lives does that importance not only fade into the sunset, but almost disappear somewhere in the universe. What is it we hold on to, keep close to our hearts, refuse to admit and smother ourselves with that was so GREAT once and no longer even exists.
What is it about once upon a time that will ride with us to the grave and the once upon a time that is as fleeting as gas from a bad meal? What becomes important and why? Why do we end up saying once upon a time, and look around only to say what time?
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