Saturday, October 08, 2011

"Ramblin' boy, why don't you settle down?"

The year was 1974, and we were living in a split-level house on Long Island, in the state of New York. We'd moved there a year earlier, the fifth long-distance relocation my family had made in the first five years of my marriage to my second (and last and best) husband. I was happy there that year.

I liked our house. The public school there was the best my daughters had ever attended. And, because we expected to stay there for a while, I'd gone back to work in a job I enjoyed. Life was good, and because it was so good, I was anxious. My husband was a rambling man, and I knew it was just a matter of time until he'd crave a change of scenery.

I'd never complained about the frequent moves because I trusted my husband to do the best he could for our family. But I am now, and was back then, a nester at heart. I wanted us to stay put but felt that asking for that might come across as a criticism of the way my husband  chose to provide for us. And he provided well.

Then, one day in 1974, a song played on the radio that I loved instantly. I bought the 45 rpm  record and played it over and over, hoping that somehow he would identify with the lyrics as much as I did. In the end, I guess he did.

Six years later, after two more moves, each of us was still clinging to the "he said" or "she said" point of view expressed in the song, clinging until he went to California alone and I stayed home.

That song is this Saturday's song selection: "Please Come to Boston" by Dave Loggins.*

*Thanks to guitar2heroes for posting this video on YouTube.


  1. Isn't it funny how certain songs can take you back in time? How you can smell the air, be in that space, have all those feelings all over again? It's bittersweet.

  2. Harriet, it is funny (not in a ha-ha way). Music definitely triggers memories for me, but I enjoy the little "time trips" immensely, and even memories of difficult times don't hold me in their grip the way they used to. Although I clearly remember the events I associate with certain songs, and remember what I was feeling THEN, my enjoyment of the music tends to overshadow any leftover bad feelings. Maybe I've managed to dump some baggage along the way, ya think?

  3. I loved that song then; and your narrative gives me a grown up sense of the bittersweet message of the song. Made me a little weepy, actually...

  4. I've always enjoyed this song but never have been able to relate to it. Through your words, I can see/hear it better.

  5. Rottrover and Duly Inspired, I'd never thought about the idea that age gives one a new perspective of the meaning of song lyrics, but that makes SO much sense. And apparently a personal anecdote can do the same.


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