We (i.e. I) go to great lengths to avoid memories of pain. The older we get, the better our avoidance tactics get. But we have also accumulated more pain. To handle it all, our tactics have to get more sophisticated.
We have to get out the heavy artillery.
So what should I do during my 45 minute drive between work and home when the best music on the radio reminds me of everything and EVERYONE - of every last heartbreaker, of every disappearing act and of every shmuck. And not just the recent ones.
We''re talking music that evokes memories way back to when men were still boys. We’re talking pre-first marriage, we''re talking college, high school and summer camp memories. We''re talking music from slow dances at bar-mitzvahs (Color my World still has the Pavlovian effect of making me run to a corner and fake-not care that I''m a geek). (God bless 88fm for dusting off the vinyl). As their jingle says: “The best music on the radio.”
The way to work is taken care of because I listen to the news. But the way back...
So, I started listening to GalGalatz, the army music radio station. For sure Top 40 (date myself much?) post 20th century MTV music could not even BEGIN to touch those memories.
The tactic was working for a while. No 80''s or 70''s music on 5pm drive time. Just MTV. Great. Problem solved...
But then I started listening to the words...
As it turns out, Beyonce is packing up her guy''s things and putting them all in a box to the left. And sometimes Beyonce wishes she were a boy ''cause then there’d be a guy who knows how it hurts to be taken for granted...
Maybe I should just listen to books on tape. Need I say more?