He's 59, and still doing backbends over microphone stands. It doesn't matter what it means to other people or whether it is significant enough to make them pop out of bed in the morning dancing to "Tenth Avenue Freeze Out" but for me it's going to be a big day of jumping to some rhythms through the Quad and smiling like I just found out I won the lottery, because in a way, I have. A few hundred songs and a permanent giddy feeling from one night of a front-row connection a few months ago is more than enough to make me feel rich and want to celebrate a lot longer than these 24 hours.
It doesn't matter where we are or who may be around- when "September" starts playing, my mom and I can't help but dance. I know for sure that it's happened in department stores, numerous times in the car and a few weddings here and there, but it is and always will be the song that can make my day instantly better and my feet go crazy. It all started when I was younger; I inherited a great fandom of Earth, Wind & Fire, along with passion for all music, from my mother. She'd always turn up the stereo and dance with me and Kyle daily. We blew out the speakers in our '88 suburban from an afternoon of Hall and Oates. There's plenty of home videos of me using our backyard as a Broadway stage and a certain Kirk Whalum song is the reason my parents named my brother Kyle. Music's always been a big part of our family, from my Dad blaring jazz and Genesis every Sunday morning on our gigantic speaker system downstairs to Mimi playing her big band records so loud that she can't hear the phone ring to the obnoxiously giant subwoofer in Kyle's old blazer that could literally be heard 15 blocks away. This blessing of a family I've been given constantly provides a good soundtrack and for that I'm extremely thankful, but I digress.
The opening of "September" stops me in my tracks. There's the intro that starts out quieter and then it starts snapping and I am suddenly moving in my own conga line. The beat makes my hips swing and I can't stop my mouth from singing the words, "say, do you remember?". About a week ago I got a text message that said, "Just heard September....ba di yah. love, mom" and I grinned for a while after. I find it impossible to be in a bad mood when it's playing, and this theory has been tested numerous times. I swear that Jesus decided to intervene one morning when I heard it playing over the speakers before my 8 o'clock class- the horn part was better than a double shot of espresso at waking me up and I am positive that everyone sitting around me thought I was high as a kite or suffering from a really bad leg twitch. It sounds so cheesy to say that it even helps when I'm crying- but it does! I am forever grateful that Maurice White decided one night to write something miraculous and now almost thirty years later I'm still gettin' to feel the rhythm and place it into my own life's playlist. I can't imagine ever getting sick of Ronnie Law's saxophone solo, although my neighbors might as I’ve discovered it’s the reason the repeat button was invented. I can't put my finger on exactly what it is; I know the sound is infectious and downright funky but the way it changes my mood on dime is still ridiculous. The mystery remains as to why it affects me so much, but "September" is one song I can't avoid and the melody that my mom and I go crazy with, singing harmonies and dancing in Target while my Dad pushes the cart alongside, not thinking it's at all strange that we're taking up an entire aisle clapping and shimmying in unison to the trumpets when the chorus comes. Sometimes you don't need a scholarly musical reason to like a song, you know? "September" shakes me up in the best way. I always want it to last longer than the three minutes and thirty-seven seconds, I’m ecstatic and knocked out by the fact of its existence and should we be near each other when it plays, please give me and my hips some room. Thank you.
Sometimes in the middle of a conversation when there's been silence for a while or time to process information, someone will ask me, "What are you thinking about?" I almost always tense up at this question because most likely I haven't been thinking at all- I've just been singing a song stuck in my head. There's always a big important discussion and then time where neither one of us is talking. Sure, during the silence I usually do review my thoughts but then my brain moves too fast and I'm in the middle of the 'doo-doo-doo-doo-bah-doo-doo-doo-doo' part in "Mama Told Me Not to Come" when my own soundtrack is interrupted by actual outside dialogue. Of course, then I have to snap back and remember the last couple of words we said and not blurt out the next lyric. I don't know if this is a good thing or not? Note to self, stay more focused.
Why do I feel like I'm getting younger every single day? Like there's so much I don't know how to do or communicate effectively? I mean, am I not supposed to feel old and on my own in college?! Maybe it'll come in time. Right now I feel about 6 years old. I just feel really young and like a lot of times I'm going through the motions but I really have no idea what I'm doing. It gets awful lonely sometimes walking around here, but the good days balance out the bad. I guess it's just this feeling that I've been dropped in the middle of this new story and I have no idea what I'm supposed to write. It's exhilarating and terrifying at the same time. The other thing with being here is that I have so much free time and I spend a lot of it thinking about my life, but not necessarily the future. I've dug up far too many old feelings and situations for my liking and pretty much run through certain memories in my head daily. I'm reading old letters and listening to old songs and it's almost an overkill of the past sometimes. This all sounds serious and bizarre written out, but I'm alright, really. This will take a while, I know, so I guess I'll just be testing my patience as much as possible and prioritizing on the now.
Wait, no.....I'm feeling at least 8 years old. That's more like it.
I like songs about drifters - books about the same. They both seem to make me feel a little less insane. Walked on off to another spot. I still haven't gotten anywhere that I want. Did I want love? Did I need to know? Why does it always feel like I'm caught in an undertow?
I know that starting over is not what life's about. But my thoughts were so loud I couldn't hear my mouth.
