“Gentle
on My Mind”
“It's
not clinging to the rocks and ivy
Planted on
their columns now that bind me
Or
something that somebody said because
They
thought we'd fit together walkin'
It's just
knowing that the world
Will not
be cursing or forgiving
When I
walk along some railroad track and find
That
you're movin' on the back roads
By the
rivers of my memory
And for
hours you're just gentle on my mind.”
Glen
Campbell (Lyrics by John Hartford; “Gentle on My Mind,” Verse 2)
The world lost another
music legend this week. The lovely, clear tenor voice of Glen
Campbell, singing his soulful songs formed the musical score of my
early twenties. My first husband, Arnold, who could make anything out
of almost nothing, went to a scrap yard in Pensacola, and brought
back to our base-house at Eglin Air Force Base, a huge chunk of
mahogany. With it, he fashioned a table, three inches thick, with a
shelf underneath, to hold a heavy reel-to-reel tape player, and our
small collection of tapes. On one of them were all Glen Campbell's
albums to that point, along with Andy Williams and Burt Bachrach.
Yesterday, when all the news shows were playing Glen Campbell songs,
my heart nearly burst with memories. I still have that table as a
reminder of the sweetness of youth, the incredibly good music of that
period, and of that other gentle-on-my-mind man who made it. He
celebrates his 73rd birthday this month.
The music of our youth,
our formative years, will always be “our music.” I remember my
parents dancing to Jimmy Dorsey's band; my sister and I to Elvis,
Jerry Lee Lewis, Chuck Berry, Little Richard, Chubby Checker and
many, many more. My friends and I watched American Bandstand every
afternoon to learn the latest dances, and spent our Saturday evenings
kicking up our heels at the Morganton Recreation Center. Music is the language
of the heart. It tunes our memories. We locate ourselves in time by
the music we remember.
Glen Campbell was a
simple man. He battled his own demons of addiction and broken
relationships. He never learned to read music, but oh, boy, could he
play it and sing it. He will be ever remembered by this old woman as
a gentleman and a beautiful soul.
In the Spirit,
Jane
No comments:
Post a Comment