Editorial: All in the mood for a melody

We brought back Don's parents' spinet piano after his dad and his new wife moved to a retirement community. It almost didn't fit, but we found room in our suddenly even more cramped house. I immediately went hunting for piano music. In Encore Music, I found a book of Duke Ellington songs. When I got it home, I thumbed through it and found something that looked like I might be able to decipher it: "I Didn't Know About You." Although I can play the piano, I'm not a musician. I can't figure out time, nor can I grok the meaning of a blackened note vs. one with a white center. I know those white notes last longer, but that's it. In spite of this, I can read music. I can also enjoy the bejeezus out of it. So I started. And the first chord was lovely. So was the next, and the next. As the music continued to charm me, I had the opportunity to read the lyrics. Among them: "I had a good time every time I went out … Romance was a thing I kidded about … How could I know about love? I didn't know about you." And I remember the tears on my cheeks. The music and words were so beautiful. That was part of my emotion. The other part: I'd never heard this song before. And if this one was lovely, I anticipated the other stirring music waiting for me to discover it. This song first appeared in 1944 – a long time ago. I bring it up because of the song I heard over the sound system as I ate lunch at The Ridge last Wednesday. I also bring it up because of the book I was reading as I became aware of that song. The music first: The Doobie Brothers singing "Drift Away," which I clearly remember first adoring in 1974. Also a long time ago. "Oh, gimme the beat, boys, and free my soul … I wanna get lost in your rock 'n' roll and drift away …" I get all itchy when I hear that song. I love it. I always have. And the book I was reading? Mitch Albom's "The Magic Strings of Frankie Presto." This is the first book I plan to finish by this author. The narrator is Music. The protagonist is a musician. The topic is music, the magic of music, the delight, the thrill, the significance, the necessity of music. And when 5-year-old Frankie discovers a guitar, he investigates. "Soon he was sounding out a melody," Music tells us. "(Frankie's) eyes widened with each new note, because playing a song for the very first time is my greatest revelation, like discovering you can walk on a rainbow." Italics are mine. As I read, I became aware of that Doobie Brothers song. Some of you may not remember it, or know it, or care about it. I get it. We have our own favorites. I figure you and I probably understand each other in at least one way: We both have songs that grab us, that have pierced our hearts. Like books, movies, full moons and friends, music changes us. OK, I thought. 1974. Forty-eight years ago. I considered about being, say, my age now in 1974, and wondered what song might have grabbed me 48 years before … in 1927. When I got home, I investigated the most popular song of that year. I got chills when I saw Hoagy Carmichael's name … and more chills when I saw the name of the song: "Stardust." "Stardust." Carmichael's song had me at "Hello." So to speak. Geez. I haven't even touched Rachmaninoff, Puccini, Chopin, Carole King, Janis Joplin, Lin-Manuel Miranda, Pete Seeger, ABBA (in spite of myself – and Don's rolling eyes), Billy Joel, Carlos Santana, Sarah Vaughan, Count Basie, John Philip Sousa, Joe Williams, Oscar Peterson, Judy Garland … Of course, I understand most of these artists no longer make music. That doesn't mean I don't appreciate the fact of current musicians and singers and music styles. It just means I'm busy listening to Rodgers and Hart. I don't know where I'm going with this. Except to share that it means a great deal to me that I love a lot of music – music that has lasted for decades as well as centuries. I love that it's lasted for me. As have the musicians. Back to Mitch Albom's book, which continues to charm me: "There is a reason you glance up when you first hear a melody, or tap your foot to the sound of a drum. All humans are musical. Why else would the Lord give you a beating heart?" I have shared some of my favorite music and musicians with you. Should you want to share some of your favorites – and where you were, maybe, or who you were with, or how old you were when you first heard them – I'd love to share your love with others. Please email me at the address below. Susan Rushton's opinion column appears regularly in the Auburn Journal. Her email is goldcountrydenizens@gmail.com.