One interesting thing about life is that each day begins anew and gives us the opportunity to learn. I work hard not to dwell on the past. Some of my happiest memories reside there as do many of my darkest hours. The rough draft for the book I’ve written about the history of our school district is mostly complete. I’ve been immersed in research and searched old school yearbooks for a few years now. I often wondered if many of those students achieved their wishes for their futures.
Did you ever talk with your friends when you were young about where you envisioned yourself five years from then? Ten years, etc? It makes me laugh. I never had much of a vision. I don’t know why. I wasn’t one of those girls who always had to have a boyfriend. In fact, dating was always a mystery to me. Despite being attractive, I didn’t get asked out much. It seemed important at the time. It wasn’t and isn’t. I’ve achieved success in life, on my own.
I was also a teenager who detested babysitting but did it to make money. I was never able to envision myself having my own children yet I loved teaching them. Due to female woes in my early 20’s, it’s unknown if I could have had them anyway. Life is funny that way.
On Twitter the other day, one member was talking about sad songs from our past and asked which could still make us cry? Immediately I was skipping down Memory Lane as tears collected. I was stuck on a few songs that can still make me cry in varying degrees. Growing up, I knew when one of my friends was depressed because she would play “The Best of Bread” album. Over.And.Over. I dare you to find a cheerful tune on that one.
I spent a great deal of time alone as a pre-teen and teenager. Yes, I had friends but they had lives. My life back then just presented the reality of my being alone. ‘Nuff said. And there were many times, due to said reality, I found myself crying over stuff that was out of my control. It was those times I’d grab our dachshund and cry my eyes out while listening to “Shannon” by Henry Gross. The song was a one-hit wonder in the early 70s. “Shannon is gone I’ve heard. She’s drifting out to sea.” I was 14 and didn’t know who Shannon was but it was clear she wasn’t coming back.
What makes it worse is the song was about a dog who drowned at the beach. Introduce an animal into the mix and the emotionality increases exponentially. Another lonely anthem of my teen years was “Alone Again (Naturally)” by Gilbert O’Sullivan. “It seems to me that/there are more hearts broken in the world/ that can’t be mended.” It was my first real breakup and I’d been dumped. Didn’t matter that this “relationship,” now that I look back on it, wasn’t a relationship at all. It was a bunch of dates, phone conversations, dances, and the usual making out. Because of my skewed home life reality, it devastated me nonetheless. And it unknowingly set me up for a series of these in the future.
No matter because my inner warrior emerged. I’d get along on my own. Ann and Nancy Wilson from Heart understood me. “Till now I always got by on my own…”. Yes, indeed, I can do this living thing on my own. But I’ve always carried “crushes” since I was a kid, and still do. “You don’t know how long I have waited/And I was going to tell you tonight/But the secret is still my own/And my love for you is still unknown/Alone.” This is a “thumb my nose” song for me. One of those “you don’t know what you’re missing” moments. Mostly it’s a strong female vocal expressing angst. Very therapeutic.
A song from the 80s that spoke to me was “Look What You’ve Done to Me” by Boz Scaggs. “Hope they never end this song/this could take us all night long/I looked at the moon and I felt blue/Then I looked again and I saw you.” Looking back I see the dawning awareness of my love for language and for when I gave myself permission to play with it as I wished.
I’ve unleashed my inner warrior, and child. If I’d ever projected being a poet and writer into my future, I’d have laughed. Now I embrace it. It’s a large part of who I am. And all of the yearning, “crushes,” and despair over failed relationships are just some of what makes me roar. Don’t forget, stories are for eternity. Roar some of your own.
Stories Are For Eternity 