Moments ago, 'Wish You Were Here' by Pink Floyd started playing. I do not know how I have this song in my iTunes, but I absolutely love it. When I was little and riding in the car with my mom, this song would come on 92.5 sometimes (as it is THE classic rock station) and she would sing it and even do the 'doo dudah doo's on occassion. My mother never does the 'doo dudah doo's. This is one of those memories that seems absolutely lovely and warming to remember (and that it is).
However, there is a catch-- as subordinate clause, if I may. And here is the dependent: I am not entirely certain if it is true. When I hear 'Wish You Were Here,' that is the memory I have instantaneously because there were those occassional songs that my mother would hum nonsense to and she does love Pink Floyd. Obviously, 'Wish You Were Here' fits the bill. This memory is being recovered from the car we had before the Quest, which would make me about four. Of course there is no way for me to know if this is the actual song. But that does not change how nice it makes me feel. It is forever fascinating to me how alive some things can make us feel when they themselves may cease to have ever existed.
If I sneeze one more time, I might have to cut my nose off. Which will be the saddest day of my life, as I have an undying affinity for both my nose and sneezing.
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2 comments:
1. Who doesn't love sneezing? especially 8 times in a row?! eh?...EH?
2. I think that Floyd was probably from my stash, which reminds me...I owe you some music. I still have yet to get that Kinks CD off of Amazon, but I have purchased two albums from Rogue Wave, one from The Beta Band (Rob Gordon from High Fidelity convinced me), and one from Alexi Murdoch (all of which I recommend). I don't remember exactly how much of what I owe you, but if you want them, they're yours!
Sweet! Be sure to remind me when we see each other once again in January, and I'll hook you up.
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