Soundtracks of our Lives

Okay, so I spent the evening (and apparently all night) thinking of the sound tracks of our lives.  We each have one.  I woke this morning, filled my morning cup of coffee, and walked into my office.  No morning news.  No Today show.  I HAD to listen to Paradise by the Dashboard Lights (Meatloaf).  I was thinking that if I could find all the songs I remembered associated with Steve, I could create a playlist and take it when I visit.  Maybe it would allow more memories to be burned into our collective memories.  My mind keeps running round and round.  How many minutes do we have?  How will we fill them?


We all have soundtracks.  Those songs that show up and we can still sing every note (albeit not well :) but we sing with passion with a smile plastered on our faces.  High school reunions play the songs that we danced to on prom night.  Or, (women especially) remembering the song we first made love or danced to at our weddings.  Birth of our children.  Our toddlers dancing to what we are listening to or the song on the radio in the car.  Different songs for different decades.  I love them all.

I have my four decades of favs.  I remember music from the time I was very small. My sister shared a room with me.  She had a radio that I liked to listen to while I played in our room by myself.  One of the earliest songs I remember was Carly Simon, Your So Vain.  I thought it was called "Clouds in My Coffee."  I was three.  What did I know?  I think I was 17 before I knew it's actual title.  Yellow Submarine.  America (several of their songs).  American Bandstand.  Dick Clark.  I could go on and on covering each decade.  Should I?  Does anyone give a shit?  Probably not.

I've decided that when it's my turn to die, I want a party (not a funeral).  I want good food and my soundtrack playing in the background.  That is the one day I'll make them a part of your soundtrack too.

Music is universal.  It affects people.  It certainly has affected me.  I was talking about this just the other day with a friend.  He sent me "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" just for fun one day.  I told him we had this song on a mix of ours that we took out to the lake (with the truck doors open).  We were listening and this guy (a friend of a friend we didn't really know) walked over to our truck.  He climbed up and in and laid across the front seat and cried and cried. When the song was finished, he sat up (tears streaming down his face) and said "I'll give you five dollars if you play it again."  We reached over and ejected the CD and gave it to him ;)  To this day, I don't know his name...