Driving my son to camp today, lost in my own thoughts, I turned on the radio. A little ditty bout “Jack and Diane” by John Cougar Mellencamp was on. Much to my 6 year olds chagrin, I turned up the volume, which drowned out his complaints and groans. I’m pretty sure he was saying something like “Is this what you call music?” or “What about some Eminem?” But, I couldn’t hear him between my own loud singing and the blaring speakers.
Then, David Bowie came on. Let’s Dance. I love me some David Bowie almost as much as Duran Duran. In fact, I think David Bowie is my favorite male soloist, on par with my beloved JT and his little singing group, D squared.
This station kept playing awesome song upon awesome song, throughout my entire car ride this morning. I vaguely remember thinking to myself, what a great station, playing my type of music. It’s like they know me. They are me.
Then, a commercial came on, announcing what station I was tuned into.
Our local Classic rock station. 94.7.
I think I was horrified and shocked.
My music is on my parents radio station and their music has moved to their parents muzak station. And my kids music…it has taken over the radio. What’s up with that?!
Time went so fast. My beloved 80’s music is now classic rock and retro music. RETRO. Holy OMG shit.
I started thinking about time. Which led me to friendships because I can mark friendships by what type of music was popular. And each friendship is defined by a song.
Which led me to time again and what I’ve learned since my friend Lori died.
I have some very good, old friends. Anna and Michelle are two of them. Not to mention Shari, Marcie and Jenn and Jenny and Niki. How I met each of them could be separate posts with crazy, fun, entertaining or heartbreaking stories, much like our friendships. Many of them have been through most of my personality growth defining moments. High school, college, engagement, marriage, pregnancy, divorce, life in-between, upside down and all around. They each carry a piece of me. And in my heart, I hold a piece of them.
And we barely ever see each other. It’s my fault. It’s that little thing called TIME again, mixed with excuses.
It passes. Moments race by.
I meant to.
Oops, I forgot.
I should have called.
Maybe next week.
Lori taught me not to live in the could have, should haves.
Don’t get caught in webs of excuses. Don’t fly with the moments.
Stop them. Grab them. Hold onto them.
Because if and when you get unstuck and can find a moment, it may be too late.
Just a little note to my friends both new and old,
I love you.