Music Does Rescue

Thinking of the past...the DEEP past, recently. Not obsessively, of course, like my dream for old Hollywood Squares shows or EDGE OF NIGHT episodes to come on DVD. Someitmes I just lay in bed in the morning at peace and I think of the "good old days", whatever that means. For me, the good old days mean something completely different....they mean a time when I was relatively at peace with myself, liking me for me without giving a damn about anyone else's opinions. OK, fine, there was never REALLY a time like that, but of late I've been going through a change and with any change there's a thinking back period. The time: 1995, a year of true change for me. While there was a lot of unpleasantness then, the one thing that kept me going was...music!

   Luckily for me, the music I refer to was not 90s crap. I don't think ANY of it was inspring, calming, or even angering for reaction sake. No, back then I was really into older material, generally 60s and 70s pop and rock. I made an audio tape long ago chronicling that peculiar year, and I don't know what happened to it to this day.

   Early in the year, during the holiday break between semesters, I'd bought a tape of pop songs released between 1970-74. My favorite song on it was "Diamond Girl"...it made me look forward to coming back to school to see a certain someone again. Life at home was pretty tense between my parents and I couldn't wait to escape. That tape was played twice on my drive back to school in late January. Of course, there were other good songs on the tape: Mr. Bojangles, Midnight Train to Georgia, Venus, and You're So Vain, among others.

   Two months later, I got the call that really changed my life...the call from my mom that she was divorcing my dad. I was torn apart by this, of course. As time went on, I was forced to as well. I continued to listen to oldies and classic rock. One night, Oscar night, in fact, I was working on a paper and had "American Graffiti" playing in the background. I'd never seen it before and was just loving the doo wop music that apparently George Lucas grew up on. That summer, I bought the soundtrack, along with some Rascals CD. I was also listening a lot to The Doors album "Waiting for the Sun", newly acquired the previous Christmas and first listened to on the drive back home for the summer...home, what did that mean anymore? Nothing. It was a concept split between a bed slept on for almost 20 years and a futon bed my mom got just for me when I visited. No, home was no longer San Diego. It wasn't really PA anymore, either. Although I was still entrenched in dorm life, I loved northern California more than anything else at this point, and was already growing anxious to return. The girl I liked that semester, well, I still liked, but there was tension there and there was someone else from my classes that I'd found interest in (ah, college!)

   Well, an oldies/classic rock summer got me through what silence would have devastated: edge of sanity. Living with a newly divorced dad who felt guilty about dating, along with a pregnant sister and her toddler firstborn, and spending part-time with a newly-free and happy for the first time I could remember mom, was bizarre and quite troubling. Having a job helped, but hell was hell.

   Coming back to school in August, I'd found a new interest in old Doobie Brothers music, particularly "Black Water". I felt free at first...then I met the 4th roommate that was to complete the roommate situation at school with Rob, Scott and myself...a guy named Ed. A new hell was emerging, but it wasn't really mine, it was his! Rob and Scott were good guys (and still are) and I didn't like subjecting them to my new anger at the state of my life. Yes, once I left the 2 nests, I felt ok to be angry about it all. Unfortunately, the stranger named Ed was the target of my anger and, later, some cruel pranks at his expense. Incidentally I feel bad about what I did now, but I feel no guilt about my feelings then. Around this time, The Beatles and The Yardbirds were finding my ears. Also, more Doors with "Soft Parade" and "Morrison Hotel". I listened to those albums coming home for Christmas in late 1995.

   Early 1996 was much of the same, but the music discovery was dying down a bit. Emerson Lake and Palmer and America were ringing in my ears as well, but I had all the music I wanted for a while...also, Scott was subscribing to Time Life's Guitar Rock, so I was in music heaven while personal hell was just under the surface...and I mean just.

   Now, 17 year later, I guess I've grown somewhat bored with the old music...I find myself skipping those songs on the iPod often. They don't hold the relevancy they once did, or maybe I just don't want to delve into that past much. Who would? 22 was a hellish year for me...and now I'm seeing 40 in 3 months. Only Paul Lynde holds the answers now, LOL!