Music and Memories

Music and memories get better with age.

I decided this one Saturday evening sitting at my desk listening to some old songs.

I didn’t intend to listen. I was supposed to be working on a project.  Instead my mind was scattered and my vision blurry. So I decided to take a break and see what was happening on Facebook.

A friend had just posted a few songs from the 70’s and I couldn’t help myself…I had to listen. In the click of a mouse, there he was…the voice from my college years. The singer-of-songs that played on the record player in my college dorm room, the writer of the songs that my sweet husband sang to me as we were courting.

“Sunshine on my shoulder makes me happy.

 Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry.” 

It was the voice of John Denver, and he stirred such a deep melancholy in my spirit, I nearly cried.

What is it about a song that can transport you back in time and place?

That takes you to a moment that you had forgotten about?

That stirs such deep emotion that your heart wants to burst? 

In my mind I was twenty again, sitting in a field full of spring flowers, behind the little church in Chandler, Oklahoma. It was Sunday afternoon. We were between services. The wind was cool and fragrant. My sweet man and I had escaped our group to spend a few moments alone.

Dating only a few weeks, we were part of a singing group from our small Christian college — the only group allowed to travel without chaperones. Normally careful to not be seen as a couple, that day we couldn’t help ourselves. It was beautiful, the sun was so bright, we just wanted to be together. (Technically, they could still see us from the back of the church, but in the great expanse of tall grass and distance we felt isolated and secure.)

As always, Larry had his guitar. And as always…I gazed with adoring eyes as I listened to him sing…

“Sunshine on my shoulder makes me happy…”  

Legs folded under me, we sat a few feet apart, facing each other, leaning against a couple of trees at the edge of the field. I could feel the bark against my back, a bit rough, a lot warm. His legs were stretched out in front of him, close enough to touch if I wanted. 

“…If I had a day that I could give you

I’d give to you a day just like today.” 

I looked around – it was indeed a perfect day. The sky was a peculiar shade of baby blue, unusual even for an Oklahoma sky. (Yes, in my infatuation, I was corny enough to think the sky matched his eyes.) The sun was playing hopscotch with a string of large fluffy clouds. Even the wind, usually warm and strong during our Oklahoma springs, was gentle and fresh and soft.  

I remember thinking, I could sit here and listen to him play like this the rest of my life. 

It was a precious memory.

I used to joke that John Denver went on more dates with us than anyone else. It was true. He did. He was a part of our love story along with Dan Fogelberg, James Taylor, Chicago, Ann Murray, and a few dozen others.

All I have to do is hear the beginning notes of one of those songs and I’m transported instantly back in time to where our lives were simple and the most important thing we did was look into each other’s eyes.

We couldn’t get enough of each other and the best part of our day was when we were together. We were young and thin and lovely.  We didn’t know then about things like debt or depression or death. We just longed for each other and the day we could start our life together.

My eyes lifted from the image on my computer screen and focused on my sweet man. He was outside my window on the back deck. I could hear the sound of his power saw over the song. He had been at it all day, cutting and installing crown molding for our house remodel.  It was getting dark and he was still at work, silhouetted in the twilight.

I felt a rush of love come over me that matched the melancholy I felt at that song. It was that instantly overwhelming it’s-been-a-good-life kind of love. That how-did-I-manage-to-have-him-love-me kind of feeling. That we-almost-didn’t-make-it-but-thank-God-we-did kind of recognition.

It was then I realized that music and memories weren’t the only things that got better with age. Sometimes love does too. (Technically, I already knew this.)

Just like music, where the good songs live on and the bad ones seem to fade away, our bad days (there were many) seem less painful when viewed through the magnifying glass of remembrance. It doesn’t mean they didn’t happen — just that with the gift of time, the good ones somehow overwhelm the rest.

It’s been decades since we sat in a field during an Oklahoma springtime. But it was only yesterday that I listened to him play, stared into his eyes once again, and thought, I could sit here and listen to him play like this the rest of my life.

I plan to.

Is there a song that transports you back in time when you hear it?  That instantly stirs up strong emotion?  That makes you long for a another time?  Share it with us.