Long day today, work, shopping, playing ball with the pups, then just doing stuff around the house. Nothing profound, just pondering on things that needed doing. After procrastinating for far too long, I asked alexa to play my favorite 60’s and 70’s artists, and just like that, the smooth tones of Paul Simon filled the house, “Slip slidin’ away… Slip slidin’ away… You know, the nearer your destination
The more you’re slip slidin’ away…”

Unconsciously singing along as I cleaned the kitchen, a random thought exploded in my mind. Random thoughts often attack me, but this one gave me pause. I’ve always been a dreamer. As a child, I loved just listening to and absorbing whatever music played in our house or in my mind. As a captive audience, I absorbed the words, breathed in the lyrical expression of the artists, and inhaled the melodies that have, in a way, shaped me into who I am as a writer, and as a person…

Music, many different styles of music, played a major role in my life growing up. I never thought much about it because music was always playing all over the house. My mom loved her country music. She introduced me to Charlie Pride, Patsy Cline, Hank Williams, and many more great country artists. I remember listening to the radio in the kitchen and singing with her as Patsy Cline’s voice soared, “I go out walking after midnight, out in the starlight…”

Then, as I wandered into the living room, my dad would be laid out on the couch listening to Johnny Cash or Sons of the Pioneers. I’d stop and listen, “I hear that train a’comin’, comin’ round the bend, and I ain’t heard that train a’comin’ since I don’t know when…” The smoke from dad’s cigerrette would float lazily up into long columns and slowly drift by me as I stood next to  him and listened to Johnny Cash on the stereo.

After a time, I’d head on down the hall where I’d hear more music pouring out of my older brother’s record player. “Well, she was just 17 if you know what I mean… and the way she looked was way beyond compare… I’ll never dance with another…” The fab four music poured under the door and stole my heart and became  one of my “forever in my heart” bands… of course, I mean, The Beatles.

Moving on down the hallway and into the bedroom I shared with my older sister, the smooth California surf sounds of The Beach Boys swept me up, captured me, and took me into their arms… “Round, round, get around… I get around…” Their music always lifted me and made me feel happy. This music still surrounds me and continues as an important part of my life because one of my daughters grew up and married one of the Beach Boys’ drummers.

My mind wanders back in time to the late 60’s- early 70’s. Being a bit older, 5th or 6th grade, I felt and understood a bit about the Vietnam War that ravaged our world at the time. It didn’t really touch me personally since I was so young, but I do know it deeply affected my music teacher. Most of this I learned many years later. However, as my music teacher, she instilled in me a sense of “even though we must fight against the injustices and tyrants in this world, we must also fight for peace, freedom, and civil rights for all right here in our own country.” She introduced me to the resistance music of the Vietnam War era. The music of Peter, Paul, and Mary… “Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing… where have all the flowers gone, long time ago”… and one of Buffalo Springfield’s songs of resistance, “There’s something happening here, but what it is ain’t exactly clear, There’s a man with a gun over there, Telling me I got to beware… I think it’s time we stop… children, what’s that sound? Everybody look, what’s going down?” It wasn’t until years later that I learned what had happened in her life and why she left the school. Her fiancé had been been killed in Vietnam. Her reaction was to play out her pain in protest music. In doing so, she changed my life and my perspective in a positive way. I’m sure she touched many other lives as well.

As in all things, I’ve once again wandered off topic. This has become much more detailed and explicit, and I still have not arrived at my main purpose for writing.

I was thinking of my older brother and how, through his music, he also greatly influenced my life growing up. Especially when he and my older sister moved away to live with their mom. I was too young to really understand what was happening at the time. I just thought they were going for the summer or for a visit. But they didn’t come back for a long, long time. One day, I received a letter from my brother. It was so awesome to hear from him. He sent me clippings and stories from music and fan magazines, and he wrote me letters about what he’d been doing. He described a concert he went to at Grapevine Lake… a mini Woodstock  concert. It sounded awesome to me, but I was too young to understand all the drama and chaos happening in the real world. I think he was 17 or 18 at the time, and I was only 11 or 12. But it felt good to be remembered and to share a connection with him… even if it was a long-distance connection. His letters opened my eyes to a whole new world outside of my little hometown. He shared his thoughts on different musicians, concerts, and living his best life. I think he inspired me into my not so distant life of being “free”… some called it a hippie life, some a flower child. I always preferred flower child. During this period of life, I discovered Joan Baez, Dylan, Creedence, Joni Mitchell, James Taylor…. so many wonderful song writers and performers who truly spoke to me through their music and helped to shape me into who I am today.

Often, we don’t realize the power our words have on others. As songwriters, authors, or just speaking and sharing with others. Words can bring great joy, immense sorrow, fear, belief….love, great love…. the power of words is a huge responsibility. Words influence actions, words cut deeper than swords, words heal, and words can kill… I am thankful for the songwriters who influenced my growing up years with their words. I am thankful for my family and the influence their music had on me. I am thankful that I can express myself through my words, and I pray my words always uplift you.

Well, I think tonight’s ramblings are just that… ramblings that have been hanging heavy on my heart because it brings back memories of another time when our country and my family were split apart. That chaotic period of time mimics how our country has become torn apart today. Many of the atrocities that are happening now are similar to the Johnson era… both depict a time of hatred, chaos, war, and just plain meanness. Perhaps I’m trying to find a little sense in what is happening. Perhaps going back to a different era when our country was also torn apart by war may help me deal with my feelings. Perhaps not. Most of these memories of family are good ones. Families, as in all things,  don’t always work well together, don’t always support or care for each other, but there are always memories of a once loved home filled with many, varied personalities all vying for their freedom in their own special way. I found mine through writing. It is when I am happiest. Yet, I am also a great procrastinator, so anything I set my mind on doing takes me a long time to complete.

I think this tale has come to an end, my ramblings are told, and I am growing old…

Love and Blessings!