Life of Wry

** One of my favorite songs of all time. Totally mushy. It’s really more about the era, the sound.. and a smidge about the romance of it. Youtube it… it’s really something.

The song was written by Burt Bacharach (music) and Hal David (lyrics) and made famous by Herb Alpert. I’ve been known to play it on repeat while on a long drive (by myself, of course), singing for all I’m worth, crescendoing right along with the band, to the amusement, prolly, of people in passing cars.

Like I said: the era. Going down Burt Bacharach Youtube rabbit holes sent me to deep, nostalgic places. Nostalgia can be fun.. it’s sweet to hear Dusty Springfield, Dionne Warwick, Aretha.. Herb.. singing all those poppy 70s songs (Do You Know the Way to San Jose, Alfie, Walk on By, Say a Little Prayer for Me, I’ll Never Fall in Love Again, Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head… This Guy’s in Love with You.. for a few) some kinda goofy, most so perky, and all Oh. So. Singable.

Nostalgia can also be heart wrenching. Mostly in a good way, I suppose. But I also get overcome with sadness for what seemed a simpler time (right, aren’t they always simpler times?), not as cynical, full of passion.

I think of the records lined up in the wire rack beneath our Hi Fi Stereo, with the drop down thing and the swinging needle on the arm. All my parents records: Barbra Streisand, Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Herb Alpert, Edie Gorme, Steve Laurence, Andy Williams, Sami Davis, Jr., The New Christie Minstrels, Burl Ives. I loved all of those. And then Jay’s and mine… all the 60s rock and roll stuff.. that is too long a list. And the sound track from Sound of Music. Thinking about all that.. music really did bounce off the walls all the time. My parents loved music, especially my dad. Jay loved music. I was a huge beneficiary of their choices (and had a bunch of my own favorites, too).

Listening to some of Bacharach’s music, which I haven’t heard for a while — not like 60s rock and roll which seems to be everywhere, all the time — zinged me back. Smiled a lot.. but also felt curling up and crying. What’s that?

Bacharach’s passing, at 94, made me wish I could call mom and dad. I felt like I wanted to reach back there, be back there…in those times. See my dad, see my mom.. put a record on and dance around the house. Have some toast, or eat a bowl of cereal.

Man.. did I just turn 67? How hilarious that doesn’t sound *that old.* And yet…. my old parents during all those music years were .. like… barely 40. Those youngsters, with a house full of kids..

Anyway.

[Deep breath.]

Thinking about an appropriate picture for this post…. going back to some old ones I might have of my mom and dad… hang on…

Well, okay.. I came up with a few, how about these to put us in the era… these are all probably 60s shots from one event or another:

And yeah… hand me a cigarette and a cocktail to go with that music….