I love music.
I love hearing the first few notes of a song, and instantly being trasported back in time, to a memory, clear as day.
The ability of music to make us remember a time, an emotion, a place, a person is remarkable.
Today, while driving home, I put my iPod on shuffle. As I was passing through Long Beach, The Kingston Trio's "Tom Dooley" came on. As soon as I heard the banjo strumming, I knew what it was.
When my sisters and I were young, we used to pile into our dad's Mercury Sable, and later our mom's cherry red Suburban for trips to visit or grandmother in Marin County and our grandparents in Carmel. I always had a window seat (I do get car sick!) and we did our best to entertain ourselves, but this was before cars had personal DVD players and we didn't all have walkmans.
Instead, we were forced to listen to our parents' music, which inevitably consisted of a recorded tape - one side The Kingston Trio and the other, The Limelighters. If you are into folk music, you know who I am talking about. Now, my parents had really good taste in music - I owe my love of Led Zeppelin, Rolling Stones, Rod Stewart, Cat Stevens, etc to them (Abba too!), but for some reason this was the road trip tape.
My sisters and I grew to appreciate folk music, and to this day, it's not uncommon to hear us recite the words to Tom Dolley verbatim.
Hearing the banjo instantly brought me back to 80, driving to Novato with two sisters, and a mom and dad. A family.
I miss it everyday.
