Sunday, April 06, 2014
It happened several years ago. A memory stirred by a song on the radio.
"What is that?" I asked myself and turned my entire attention to the music.
"Why that is Bob Dylan!"
I closed my eyes and struggled to remember when. I labored to remember where. And then the memory slowly washed over me.
College. Summer at the Ghetto. A smoky room, a toothy grin, legs stretched out taking up the entire room, beers in hand, joints passed around, cigarettes smoldering in overflowing ashtrays, record player blasting, hanging out with a gang known as the "Bolio's", trying to be cool among the cool.
The music overwhelming me with its beauty. Realizing I liked it. I, who had never bought a Dylan album in the past, was baptized into the fold.
Recently, on a television program, the power of music on the brain was reveled....again. How Alzheimer patients will become engaged when presented with music from their past. Memories stirred. The soundtracks of their lives.
Recalling the experience of hearing Mozambique, the way it was like a time machine, taking me back to a place, a time, a memory of a young 20 year old in among a crowd that probably had a line on corrupting her.
I loved it then and cherishes the memory now.
When I am too old to remember anymore I would like a map of songs to take me back, if not to the memories, then to the feeling of being young and swinging the world by the tail .