Let the music play

Driving home from work the other day, a song came on the radio that I hadn’t heard in probably ten years. It was Phil Collins’ “You’ll be in my heart,” a song from the Tarzan soundtrack that I would play for my nephew, Lucas, when he was a little boy. 

He would be strapped into his car seat in the back of my Jeep Wrangler. I would pop the CD into the dashboard, and the two of us would connect, making eye contact through the rearview mirror as we sang along to the songs. If you’ve never heard the song, you probably have not had young children in your life or perhaps you simply missed this particular Disney film. So courtesy of YouTube, I'm sharing a link here, because it may be the best way to emphasize the point of this blog post. Take a listen to the words.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JIVaUcE4kAM

The song caused a heartwarming flashback for me because it brought me back to a time in my life when Lucas and I would spend a considerable amount of time together. Now that he is a teenager, we don’t have the opportunity to hang out as much as we used to, so the memories we created back then are that much more precious.

We all get nostalgic now and then, but it occurs to me that without realizing it, often the catalyst for our reminiscing is music.

Music connects us to our memories. Depending on whether the memory is a good or bad one, music can return us to another time in our lives, and with it, return us to the people who were “there when.” It is powerful stuff.

For me, any Bob Seger song is an instant reminder of my sister Joyce. As teenagers, we loved his music and would blast it from the car radio. We had so much fun at a Seger concert one night, going with two other girlfriends, that we immediately decided to return to the concert venue the next night to buy tickets on the street, so that we could hear it again, live. We had to split up to do so, since the tickets we scored were not all in the same section, but we were all about the music that night so it really didn’t matter.

That may have been the night that sealed the Bob Seger-Joyce connection for me. There are plenty of others, too. My brother John was a big Tom Petty fan. Hence, Petty for me equals John. It is automatic and it is usually instantaneous, this recognition of the personal connection.

Let me try to put this in the broader perspective, because obviously everyone has a different experience. When it comes to the power of music, we have had some tremendous examples to send us back in time to a particular memory. I bet any of the “rock anthems” of the Baby Boomer and Gen X generations can catapult you to a moment in your life that you cherish -- or maybe wish you could forget. See if any of the following does anything for you:

Aerosmith’s Dream On.

Lynyrd Skynyrd’s Freebird.

Michael Jackson’s We are the World.

Sly and the Family Stone’s We are Family.

Kool and the Gang’s Celebration.

Queen’s We are the Champions.

What comes to mind when you hear one of those golden tunes, or any other that is a particular favorite of yours?

Maybe it is your wedding song. Or the song from your junior prom. Anyone who has ever gone to a game at Yankee Stadium (past or present) can probably relate to Frank Sinatra’s New York, New York, since they play it at the conclusion of every Yankee home game (or if you grew up where I came from, that song may have been the last song you heard before you were tossed out of the local dance club as they turned on the lights at 2 a.m.)

Whatever the memory, the music brings it all to life so you can relive the moment and reconnect with the people who made that moment one to cherish. 

So I guess this week it was Phil Collins that reminded me of this cool function of the technology of memory. It’s the music that we love that writes a soundtrack to our lives. Let it play.

You’ll be in my heart. Yes, you’ll be in my heart. From this day on, now and forevermore. You’ll be in my heart, no matter what they say. You’ll be here in my heart always.

Always.

Copyright 2011 by Marianne V. Heffernan