I don’t know how many times I can talk about this but since it occurs multiple times a day, every day, it is always in the forefront of my mind. And that is – just about everything and anything will remind me of a song or a poem.
For instance – This morning’s conversation:
Husband: Thanks for putting my jeans in the hamper. I forgot to do it last night.
Me: I noticed that, so I just figured I do it myself.
Husband: Well, I knew I hadn’t, so it had to be you.
Me: Singing – It had to be you…
It’s not that the whole song that applies (tho I have it playing now and hey, maybe it does), it’s just the words ‘it had to be you‘ had an immediate response from me – singing that line from that song. This happens all day long. Matter of fact, it happened just before I sat down to write this – an inconsequential conversation that ended with me saying “Six is a good number, but I like seven better” Then I sang “Seven come eleven in the boy’s gym, Charlie Brown…”
I can’t help it. You talk, I sing.
It probably goes back to the song game my parent’s used to drive us crazy with – we would ask a question my parents would answer with a song – the last word/words of our question would be a line from a song. They could keep this for the longest damn time; as kids it made us crazy, all we wanted was an answer, all we got was a song.
Books and music – the guiding forces of my childhood and life. My mother brought music and dancing – Oy, always the music and dancing. My father brought the books, and yes music but a different kind than my mother’s.
My mother didn’t do books. According to her she had read exactly two books in her whole life “Gone With The Wind” and “Dry Guillotine”. Interesting choices there. She was an avid reader of supermarket tabloids – The Star, The National Inquirer etc. My father would go bananas when she brought those into the house.
While my father knew all the pop tunes, show tunes, big band, jazz, same as my mother, my father also brought classical music and opera to the table. Not my mother’s fav’s since she couldn’t dance to them – and dancing was everything. (Needless to say my father didn’t dance but that is the way of the world.)
It’s the same with poetry for me – recently someone blogged about blogging and asked what the point or purpose of your blog and my immediate response was “This is my letter to the world that never wrote to me” from an Emily Dickinson poem. But those instant associations usually just remain a part of my ongoing internal dialogue with my unknown, unseen confidant. They amuse and entertain me.
Today Rory posted a song challenge of 5 questions that required you to choose a song. There are way too many songs in my memory to answer any question that requires a favorite. One question was “A song that you hear often on the radio” – that made me laugh, do people still listen to the radio? I haven’t in decades – not for any reason. Ah, but the last question was “A great song (as passenger/driver) to listen to in the car with the windows down?”
I had an immediate reaction and response! I have fantasized about being in a convertible, top down, on a sunny breezy day, open road, not much traffic, sitting on top of the seat (not in it) waving my arms and singing along to this:
Oh, and what does this have to do with being old? I’ve got 75 years of music and poetry in my head…