This was playing while I had a certain singular, one-time-only experience. If it takes until I'm 95, I'm going to dance to this with the man I love.

  Bob took us out on Lake Superior one day in his boat. Spring 1993. It was a brilliant, blue-sky day, ducks flying south. The water flew up in crystals as the boat cut through the little waves. I was troubled that day, feeling uncertain about how my life would go. But the peace of…

Not over it. Maybe never will be.

  I think, hearing this, for the first time in my life I cried over the fact that I'm going to die. Maybe, with grace,  I'll be done with my grieving by the time I shuffle off.

  Even though it came out in 1973, the first time I heard this album in full was the fall I went to New College. My experience of that time wasn't necessarily blissful, but there's a golden glow to the memories now.

  This has an echo of Neil Young's "Old Man," which would automatically make it a fave, but it also speaks to a feeling I know I've had in a past life and would love to have in this one.

How I wanted this to be my song with someone. Well, I'm not dead yet.

  When I was 23 and managing a restaurant, one of the other managers asked me on a date. I was in the place where so many women start out—unable to find a nice way to say no so I said OK. It was a fairly nice evening. He had a nice car, nice apartment,…

I've been having a hard time the last several days. Lots of remembering and crying. Watch out for the 9-month mark I guess. My mom loved disco. It was the soundtrack to the time in her life when she really blossomed into herself—don't judge! She especially loved the group A Taste of Honey ("Boogie Oogie…

Last night I told a friend that I was a little scared of hearing this song over the holidays. It can make me cry in normal times, but also, Mom loved it.  I decided to listen to it, to test my reaction. I did not break down. It seemed like an affirmation. Like, we did…