“In memory everything seems to happen to music.”
Tennessee Williams
(Back in 2017, I explored this topic from a neuroscience point of view with a few examples from my own life. This month, I expand on the personal aspects.)
Hearing a song can trigger a memory of a person, a place, or an event. The tunes become the touchstones of our inner lives.
Toora loora loora, often known as An Irish Lullaby, brings to mind my long-departed Nana, even though I was only a baby when she sang it to me.
My parents have been gone for more than twenty years, but hearing their favorite song, In the Mood by the Glenn Miller orchestra, lets me visualize them dancing again.
My Dad and his friends had a social clubhouse, which I often associate with a Judy Garland song, A Pretty Girl Milking Her Cow. My young cousins and I played it there on a record player and giggled about the funny title.
That Sunday, That Summer, by Nat King Cole was the song my best high school girlfriends and I played at sleepovers while we wondered if the day would ever arrive when we would meet our special “you.”
My first trip to Europe was a group Under-25 tour, and for some reason, the European bus driver kept playing an old country western song over the loudspeaker. We rolled through eight countries listening to A White Sport Coat and a Pink Carnation, over and over again.
During my twenty-something university student days, I spent most of my time in New York City, especially in Greenwich Village, where I often visited The Bitter End at 147 Bleeker Street to listen to the music of my crush, Jake Holmes, and my friend Chuck’s crush, Joni Mitchell. The soundtrack of the area at the time was Summer in the City by The Lovin’ Spoonful.
The song, “People,” brings me back to an evening in Central Park, where my friends and I picnicked with 125,000 people to listen to Barbara Streisand’s stunning voice ring out through the darkness.
I always associate the emotional theme from Claude Lelouch’s French film, A Man and A Woman, with New York’s East Village because I enjoyed it while on a date there.
I Want to Hold Your Hand brings me back to the Staten Island ferry terminal in Lower Manhattan. The loudspeaker system was broadcasting a radio program, and it was there that I first heard the Beatles.
Jug Band Music by the Jim Kweskin Jug Band evokes Cambridge, Massachusetts and the Club 47.
Two songs bring sweet memories of my wedding: My Sweet Lord by George Harrison and If You Could Read My Mind by Gordon Lightfoot.
Eros Ramazzotti’s song, Se Bastasse Una Canzone (If a Song Were Enough), recalls the years I lived in Italy. Those years also bring to mind how much my children laughed at another Italian song, Mi Scappa la Pipi, Papà (I Need to Pee, Papa) by Pippo Franco.
Here I Go Again by Whitesnake reminds me of the years I lived in Germany.
Reality, a song from a French film, brings me back to a ski trip in Austria where La Boum was shown during a film night at the lodge.
Respect by Aretha Franklin recalls a fun moment from teaching Middle School when I lip-synched and danced to it with several other teachers to entertain the students in the auditorium. We all wore gold lamé outfits, and the students laughed and clapped and enjoyed it.
A country-western song, He Parked His Car in Her Driveway, had my husband and I laughing as it played repeatedly on the car radio during a drive to the Crested Butte Ski Area in Colorado.
The Charlie Brown Theme reminds me of a piano concert I attended in San Diego with my friend, Muriel.
The tune of Imagine by John Lennon makes me remember a nurse friend who has passed on. As a Peace Corps volunteer in Morocco, she added her own lyrics in Arabic to teach teens about the adverse effects of smoking. Her song was called Txyyal makaynsh Duxxan (Imagine No Smoking).
Cryin’ by Aerosmith transports me to Boston, as does most any song by Jackson Brown and James Taylor, because I saw them together in concert at Fenway Park. The music of The Nutcracker transports me to Boston’s theater district and many holiday seasons, enjoying the show with family and friends.
The music of The Beach Boys reminds me of one summer night in Rangeley, Maine, when they visited and gave an outdoor concert with the lake as a backdrop.
My brother Bob Wright’s song, The Dust Came Down, reminds me of September 11, 2001, when the World Trade Center was attacked. In September of 2009, the Brooklyn Arts Council invited Bob to perform it at a 9/11 Memorial, and the Arts Council archived the song for posterity.