S & G

I closed at Starbucks tonight and had some delightful conversations. It was slow, so it was OK to take the time to meander through cleaning tasks and have conversations, one with a woman from Kansas City who's a writer working on a feature-length cartoon script, and another with a pair of guys from Italy on holiday. And all the while, the soundtrack tonight was good--somehow the usual lineup got out of sync and the playlist tripped into new territory--mellow, easygoing, melodic territory which made working even more enjoyable tonight.

And, as is typical in the music rotation at Starbucks these days, a little Simon and Garfunkel played over the speakers. I noticed that whenever the excerpts from the new live album released under Starbucks' Hear Music label would play, I would have a better shift. So one day about a month ago when I knew I would be driving a lot to and from Orange County, I bought the CD on a whim. I love Simon and Garfunkel. We had the Bridge Over Troubled Water tape growing up, and then a friend got me their Greatest Hits CD for my 16th birthday. When my mom told me she'd seen them live in the 60's, her cool points went way, way up.

So as I listened to the music that day with the windows down, Mrs. Robinson, Scarborough Fair, 59th Street Song (aka Feelin' Groovy) and on and on, I was so happy. The songs were connected to so many memories--the way my roommate at a summer academy my sophomore year in high school would sing the "whoa whoa whoa" in Mrs. Robinson or the moves of my gymnastics recital piece set to Feelin' Groovy. All the songs on the album are live from 1969, right before they released the Bridge Over Troubled Water album. You can hear Garfunkel say right before the sing that song, "This is one of our new songs. It's called 'Bridge Over Troubled Water.'" Can you imagine when that song was new? Hearing it for the first time? Hearing it live? Do you think people knew then how epic it would be? Did they know they were listening to a piece of music history? And so I blasted that song that day as loud as my little Ford Focus speakers would go.

And pretty soon, I could hear my mom's voice singing next to me. We had sung that song and so many other Simon and Garfunkel tunes together, riding in the car, on a road trip or on our way around town. And I lost it. Going 80 mph. At least I've become accustomed to operating a vehicle in this state--at high speeds through tears--so it isn't terribly abnormal. The lyrics were so fitting as well, as if my mom would be singing them to me, especially the bridge:

Sail on, silver girl
Sail on by
Your time has come to shine
All your dreams are on their way

And I thought back to talking to my mom after I'd gotten home, the day before she died. I'd asked if she'd like me to sing to her. She said, "You could sing 'Happy Birthday.'" (My birthday was the following week).
"You're right, Mom, I could."
"Well, we have to get this taken care of before then," she said in a moment of strange clarity amidst confusion. Whether it was painkillers or cancer spreading to her brain, she was in an altered state those last days. But in this moment she was strangely aware and lucid. She was wanting to not detract from my birthday, in a way literally laying her life down in death as she had done so often during her life. Doing what she thought was right for the benefit of others. She was gone in less than 24 hours.

It all makes the lyrics that much more fitting. As though mom were singing them just to me:

When you're weary, feeling small,
When tears are in your eyes
I will dry them all.
I'm on your side.
When times get rough
And friends just can't be found
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

When you're down and out,
When you're on the street,
When evening falls so hard,
I will comfort you.
I'll take your part.
When darkness comes
And pain is all around
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will lay me down.

Sail on silver girl.
Sail on by.
Your time has come to shine.
All your dreams are on their way.
See how they shine.
Oh if you need a friend,
I'm sailing right behind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.
Like a bridge over troubled water
I will ease your mind.

Some days it still doesn't seem real. That I could call her up. Being so far away from home makes the reality of it less tangible. And oh how I wish she were here to dry my tears. How I wish she were here to see me shine and to see my dreams on their way. And so I will continue to blast Simon and Garfunkel and I will continue to think of her--to remember the person she was and the person she hoped I would be. How it hurts my heart that I will never hear her voice again, to sing, to call me Annie.

My dad leaves on a Mediterranean cruise next Saturday. He and mom traveled a LOT these past several years--to Antarctica and the Arctic Circle, Russia, Germany. And this Mediterranean cruise was the last one they wanted to do, but they didn't quite make it. Dad said he still wanted to go, though, so he will be traveling with Sue and Melvin--my folks' 10-year traveling companions. He has surprised me in so many ways, with the ways he has stepped up. He even baked a carrot cake from scratch for a meeting he was hosting the other day. Who is this culinary man? Maybe for each of us through all of this we will become people we didn't even know we could be.