She's Eclectic

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 that day, with my Gramma, my brother, and me, and this song on the radio, gave me something to hold onto.

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, nice stereo. He played this song, and how I wish I'd been attracted to him.

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 Oogie"). This song of theirs just showed up in my shuffle. I feel like it's a clear message to me from her, if such a thing is possible. She's at the rainbow's end. (She loved rainbows, too.)

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 celebrate her home. And she's still here, and she's OK. My therapist's view of where she is now has really stuck. I keep offering caveats – "I don't know for sure, could just be fade to black, I know…" But that stubborn, wonderful knowing she's still in the Universe and more than OK stays with me.