The Music in My Head

I hear music all the time.

I can't tell you how many times I've been sitting with a group of people in a crowded, noisy restaurant (say, the Olive Garden), and all of a sudden Matt taps me and says something like, "Why are you singing songs from West Side Story?"

"What? Was I singing?"

"Well, you were quiet. But yes."

"Oh. I guess I was singing along with the music."

"What music?"

"You know, Somethin's Coming, from West Side Story. Don't you hear it?"

The table gets quiet and everyone agrees that, yes, lingering in the background noise is Frank Sinatra singing showtunes.

I used to be so softhearted (read:weepy) that just the sound of beautiful music would move me to tears. I remember one year when the guys in the All-Region choir performed an arrangement of the Ave Maria by Biebl, and I just sat there with tears streaming down my face, wishing the sound would never end.

Concerning movie soundtracks, my musical memory was particularly keen. The theme from "Robin Hood, Prince of Thieves" was used in the previews of several adventure movies, and I would always lean over to the person next to me and inform them of the true source of the music. Made a bunch of friends that way. Everybody loves a nerd. You know, in case you ever end up in a high-stakes game of Trivial Pursuit.

Why am I telling you this? Well, those of you who know me best are aware of an unfortunate and traumatic event that happened in my life about 9 years ago. In the months following, I was alarmed to find that the music in my head had stopped--and with it, the emotions that expressed who I felt God had created me to be. Eventually, the music came back. At least, my empirical music memory returned. But I never felt swept up in anything--not the harmony, not the beauty of the voices or the instruments, nothing. After awhile I got used to it.

Well, I am happy to report that last evening, September 4, 2008, I was fooling around with my playlist and decided to look up some of my favorite choral music. I found a recording of a men's chorus performing Biebl's Ave Maria. Imagine my surprise when that old feeling, so unfamiliar to me over the past years, began to well up in my heart. Then the tears began to fall.

I felt like I was meeting a younger version of myself...this hopeful, girlish--and yes, sappy--young woman sans control issues. This confirmed romantic, this girl who considered Anne of Green Gables a personal friend...it turns out she's still here. To some people, this smacks of regression. I mean, who wants to be a blubbering crybaby whose emotions are triggered simply by listening to the right song?

I guess I do. I liked that girl. I missed her. I am so thankful that God, in His own time, has seen fit to restore that portion of who I am.

My apologies to those of you who come to this blog for my usual fare of semi-amusing nonsense. I haven't forgotten about you. Since I was taking a musical walk down memory lane (check out the last tracks on the playlist for bee-yoo-tee-ful theme songs, etc. Can't you just envision Sally Field flipping out in a cemetery or Kevin Costner frolicking with his pet wolf?), I decided to pull out the copy of Speed that we got in the five dollar bin at Wal-Mart last night. This movie came out while I was in high school, and I remember thinking Keanu Reeves was so amazing. Watching it again after so many years...it's Keanu Reeves with a flat-top haircut and a mouthful of chewing gum, which he chomps incessantly and with purpose. Oh, and he throws those dirty words around like only a bona-fide tough bomb squad guy can throw 'em...and that's about all there is to that performance.

What was that girl thinking?