Musical Memories
So with all the craziness that seems to be afflicting us here at the end of the world I have stopped and started a few blogs over the last month or so. I am now attempting to finish the others; in the meantime I’ll leave this rather delayed thought for your perusal.
Today has, for reasons beyond me, been rather hectic so it was with much relief that we put the girls to bed and settle down on the sofa with a glass of wine to relax. I know what you’re all thinking and no, we didn’t watch the SA vs. Fiji game we were otherwise occupied with children and dinner at the time and I forgot about the delayed coverage. Anyway, so there we were on the sofa missing the rugby and listening to music. The Mauritian’s taste in music is eclectic so we have a music collection that ranges from opera’s like “Carmen” to “dance” music and everything in between. Somewhere among the mound of CDs we have collected over the years is music that I enjoy. Sometimes I get lucky and the Mauritian will play something I enjoy, this night was not one of those times, I was subjected to Elvis. Now I like a few of his songs, but I am certainly no fan and the Mauritian knew I would roll my eyes as the first notes of “Blue Suede Shoes” played. Grinning he sat down next to me and told me he liked to listen to Elvis because it reminded him of the parties his parents used to have in Mauritius. Odd as it may seem the songs of Elvis also spark a memory for me, well one song really: I have vivid memories of my Uncle, the family comedian, doing his drunken version of “Jail House Rock.” I have to admit I like my Uncle’s version better, it was much more entertaining. Thus started our evening of trips down memory lane aided by music, we both discovered that night just how many of our memories are surrounded by music. We shared memories from our childhoods and spent a lot of time saying: “Remember when...”
I was struck by just how many shared memories the Mauritian and I have. We are still so busy getting to know one another that we forget just how long we have known each other. The Mauritian has met most of my family and all of my friends past and present, in fact we no longer have “his” and “her” friends they are all “our” friends. The same is true of me and his family, though there are many more we still have to meet. So many of these memories are associated with music, it is amazing to me how the first note of a song sparks a memory.
Sadly I was also struck by how much music reminds us of loved ones that have died. I have classic music cds that belonged to my “Oupa” and cannot listen to them without recalling the smell of his pipe tobacco. When I hear a song from Nana Mouskouri I remember my grumpy father in law stomping about the house with a whiskey glass in one hand, cigarette in the other and a scowl on his face. Whenever he played her music it was at a volume that the entire neighbourhood could share. My mum in law would tap her foot to The Beatles, Elvis, Billy Joel and even some of the more bazaar music to come out of the 80’s. There are so many songs that spark a memory of Marnie and her “joie de vivre” and it always makes me smile, even if a little sadly.
I confess I am a very sentimental person. I have learnt to let go of most of those physical reminders that end up cluttering up your draws and shelves. You know those things I mean: the little souvenirs from all those weddings you’ve attended, the ticket stubs from your first subway ride in London perhaps even your diaries you kept in high school. I moved so many times after leaving school that I grew tired of packing and unpacking all these useless yet sentimental pieces of my past. There are some things that I will never part with, like my photo albums, my scrapbooks and all the letters I got from the Mauritian during our matric year but my many moves slowly whittled down the useless clutter. Moving to the end of the world required a huge clean out which at times was like peeling off a layer of my skin but now I don’t remember what it was that was so hard to part with or why. In the end I still have what’s most important, my memories.
My musical memories!
Today has, for reasons beyond me, been rather hectic so it was with much relief that we put the girls to bed and settle down on the sofa with a glass of wine to relax. I know what you’re all thinking and no, we didn’t watch the SA vs. Fiji game we were otherwise occupied with children and dinner at the time and I forgot about the delayed coverage. Anyway, so there we were on the sofa missing the rugby and listening to music. The Mauritian’s taste in music is eclectic so we have a music collection that ranges from opera’s like “Carmen” to “dance” music and everything in between. Somewhere among the mound of CDs we have collected over the years is music that I enjoy. Sometimes I get lucky and the Mauritian will play something I enjoy, this night was not one of those times, I was subjected to Elvis. Now I like a few of his songs, but I am certainly no fan and the Mauritian knew I would roll my eyes as the first notes of “Blue Suede Shoes” played. Grinning he sat down next to me and told me he liked to listen to Elvis because it reminded him of the parties his parents used to have in Mauritius. Odd as it may seem the songs of Elvis also spark a memory for me, well one song really: I have vivid memories of my Uncle, the family comedian, doing his drunken version of “Jail House Rock.” I have to admit I like my Uncle’s version better, it was much more entertaining. Thus started our evening of trips down memory lane aided by music, we both discovered that night just how many of our memories are surrounded by music. We shared memories from our childhoods and spent a lot of time saying: “Remember when...”
I was struck by just how many shared memories the Mauritian and I have. We are still so busy getting to know one another that we forget just how long we have known each other. The Mauritian has met most of my family and all of my friends past and present, in fact we no longer have “his” and “her” friends they are all “our” friends. The same is true of me and his family, though there are many more we still have to meet. So many of these memories are associated with music, it is amazing to me how the first note of a song sparks a memory.
Sadly I was also struck by how much music reminds us of loved ones that have died. I have classic music cds that belonged to my “Oupa” and cannot listen to them without recalling the smell of his pipe tobacco. When I hear a song from Nana Mouskouri I remember my grumpy father in law stomping about the house with a whiskey glass in one hand, cigarette in the other and a scowl on his face. Whenever he played her music it was at a volume that the entire neighbourhood could share. My mum in law would tap her foot to The Beatles, Elvis, Billy Joel and even some of the more bazaar music to come out of the 80’s. There are so many songs that spark a memory of Marnie and her “joie de vivre” and it always makes me smile, even if a little sadly.
I confess I am a very sentimental person. I have learnt to let go of most of those physical reminders that end up cluttering up your draws and shelves. You know those things I mean: the little souvenirs from all those weddings you’ve attended, the ticket stubs from your first subway ride in London perhaps even your diaries you kept in high school. I moved so many times after leaving school that I grew tired of packing and unpacking all these useless yet sentimental pieces of my past. There are some things that I will never part with, like my photo albums, my scrapbooks and all the letters I got from the Mauritian during our matric year but my many moves slowly whittled down the useless clutter. Moving to the end of the world required a huge clean out which at times was like peeling off a layer of my skin but now I don’t remember what it was that was so hard to part with or why. In the end I still have what’s most important, my memories.
My musical memories!
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