As much as I love to write about the beautiful place where I live, I was beginning to bore myself. There’s just so much green stuff you can exclaim about. I was going to write about some of the people I’ve met here but I stopped. I’ve grown to love many of my neighbors but you can’t argue with your stomach. Enough is enough.
I’ve been sitting here and listening to the Dave Mason version of “Will You Love Me Tomorrow?” By Carol King and Geoffrey Geffen. Hope I spelled that right.
Anyway, that version of the song is so hypnotic; it makes me lean back and close my eyes and dream. What child of the sixties doesn’t love all that fantastic stuff we were free to listen to? So this series, I think, will be long. There’s so much I remember, so many thoughts connected to those songs. I could go on forever.
Before I begin on describing the music of my teenage years (and later) and how it made me feel, because I’m a patriot and I love my country–I want to mention our national anthem and other patriotic songs. I love playing them on the piano and singing while I play. And relating to that, there’s the dynamic scene in “Casablanca” at Rick’s where the Nazis are singing and playing their song; then Paul Henreid, the super-hero/super-underground spy who survived Nazi cruelty tells the orchestra to play the French national anthem. Their music finally overcomes the Nazi’s music and all the French dedicate themselves to their own country. I read someplace that everybody cries during that scene, even when they’ve seen this movie ten times. I know I cry then but I used to be embarrassed about it.
So what am I saying? Music can stand for anything and everything, can make people cry, long for a lost love, give comfort. There’s a song by Elton John–“Mona Lisas and Madhatters”–that is sad and sweet and honest. I had to spend a lot of money to get the CD but it was worth it. (I’m a CD person.) It’s pretty obvious that the song describes some kind of trip to New York City and the people there were mean to Elton in some way. So he turned his pain or disillusion into a lovely song. I never get tired of listening to it. There’s a mandolin played in it, also. But just one artist could extend itself for pages. Also–I’ve never told anybody this but I also get emotional listening to “Crocodile Rock.” Why? One line: “I never knew me a better time and I guess I never will.” Unfortunately the reason for my liking this line has to stay private. But there’s so much more…
lgmwriting 