A Perfect Song

I love music. I don't just enjoy it. I don't just use it as a way to pass the time. I don't care whether there are both words and music. I just love it.

Growing up I learned to play the piano and in this way I learned a great deal about the mechanics of music. The staves, treble and bass. Octaves and other basic terminology I got early on in my life. I loved that I could make wonderful sounds come from the piano.

In high school and in college, I was in the band. (Note: I also loved athletics, being in shape, and competing against my friends. But that is another story.) I had some awesome band directors who were wonderful teachers of music, but who also pushed us to be better than we were. No excuses just because we were a small school. This is the time period when I realized that music was something special in my life.

But the first memories of music in my life were my parents playing records and listening to the radio. They would sing and dance to the music. (Note: My Mom could not carry a tune in a bucket. Didn't matter!) They were so happy. When I was about eight, we got our first television. Most of what was shown during the day were music videos, of all things! I got to see the people sing and play the instruments that I had heard on the radio and records. I learned every word to every song on "Your Hit Parade." I wanted to be one of those people.

Well, quite honestly, I squandered such talents as I possessed by not realizing that even though you are good at something, to be great requires great effort. But, even so, the love of music has never left me.

We got our first stereo when I was thirteen. A real stereo with speakers that sat against opposite walls. I listened to records while lying in the floor of our living room, until I could recognize each instrument and the musical line it was playing; I learned about the ways music was organized. Instrumentals could and would move me to tears. To this day, when I hear Tara's Theme from Gone With the Wind, I anticipate every note and cry like a baby. Percy Faith, Roger Williams, Mantovani, Ferrante and Teicher, I loved them all.

Ahhh, but music and words..... to be perfect, a melody needs a voice. Truly, I could sit and list songs that I love and have great meaning in my life, and it would go on and on. But to pick one, well, not an easy task.

This past year has been full of many, many wonderful events and people. Sadly, some of these will never come again. Thankfully, many of them will. Not surprisingly, music reminds me of these people and events, so in that sense, I'll always have a reminder of them. One of the poet/musicians who has been part of my life for close to forty years is Jimmy Buffett. His experiences and insights are what drive his words. To listen to them all is to understand the world according to Buffett.

He went to Paris is a song that, to me, is a perfect song.
The melody and the instrumentation together generate such a strong emotional response in me. But the story... oh the story, is a tale of us all. We go through life "looking for answers to questions that trouble" us so. When we are young, we are full of idealism and want to change our world for the better. But we get distracted; we fall in love with life... and with others. And time slips away. We move from one place to another, have babies, fight battles, and come away scarred. But we keep searching.... and time slips away. The fortunate ones alight in a place and situation where days are full of purpose and beauty surrounds them. And toward the end they can say, "Some of it's magic and some of it's tragic, but I had a good life all the way."

I'm listening, Jimmy.

He Went to Paris.. by Jimmy Buffett