Journal Day #2: Music

We all have songs that really mean something to us. Often just hearing it can take us right back to that place and we are able to re-experience the memory associated with the song. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but either way music has the ability to really draw things out of us and evoke deep emotion. Choose a song that has a particular meaning to you. Tell the story of the memory associated with the song, sharing as much detail as you can. Take us there; let us experience it with you. via Sometimes Sweet

Just like the prompt last week I'm having trouble choosing just ONE song. I was raised on music. It's my friend. It's my religion. It's EVERYTHING to me. Everything.

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I stood there with my apron on, feet aching, but happy. We all kept eyeing each other. Then we'd glance at the clock. And back to each other until finally it was 9PM and time to lock the door. We all immediately changed the way we wore our aprons (tied around our waist not around our necks), took our hats off and got busy cleaning up for the night. I was almost always scheduled for the '4pm - Close' shift and I loved it. There were so many great nights spent with co-workers friends. And there's one song that always brings me back to those moments. Every time I hear it I'm transported to my sixteen year old self cleaning up/having the time of my life. New Found Glory's My Friends Over You was our jam during the summer of 2002. I remember someone bringing in their CD and popping it into a tiny boom box. We'd turn it up loud and sing together while we emptied trashcans and mopped floors. We all grew up, got different jobs, and after we graduated high school we just went our separate ways. But every time that song comes on I think of them. I think of that time in my life. And I smile to myself.

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Before vinyl was "made cool" by hipsters, I was a kid in the 90s flipping through my mom's old collection that had always lived at my grandparent's house. They had a record player front and center in their living room. It was right next to the TV. On top of their cassette player. Two big speakers in both corners of the room. I loved placing the needle gently on whichever song I was interested in hearing. It was a whole experience. Clicking on a song in my iTunes library will never compare. I played a lot of songs from a lot of different albums but the one that stands out is Please Pardon Me (You Remind Me Of A Friend) by Chaka Khan & Rufus. I played it on a loop. I loved it so much that I even figured out how to record the album version to a cassette tape so I was able to listen to it in my room. I would later download the digital version because I always have to have it close. When I hear that song I always think back to a time where I was discovering so many different kinds of artists for the first time - most of them popular long before I was even born. 

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It was 2005 and Dustin and I were still new. Our relationship still fresh. Butterflies and all. Every weekend I would come to visit him we would go on little adventures around his small town. He'd always drive because he obviously knew where he was going and I had already driven 70 miles to him. At the time he drove a 1996 red Ford Thunderbird. It was huge and oh so comfortable. He'd drive me all over Palm Coast blasting a variety of music (Kanye, Journey, Straylight Run) but I remember Thrice's Image of the Invisible the most. He wouldn't listen to anything else while we were in his car but Vheissu. Image of the Invisible was always what got the most play. I didn't mind and even quickly learned the words (and fell in love with Thrice at the same time) and together we'd scream/sing while cruising down the long, dark, empty roads. And we wouldn't dare stop when we entered the L-Section neighborhood with all it's new construction homes that all look exactly the same. We didn't care that it was 1am. We had a song to sing. And sing it we did. And every time the line we all were lost now we are found, no one can stop us or slow us down came on we would both just look at each other and sing that much harder. We just knew. We could feel it. It was us against the world and we wouldn't have it any other way.