Rings

I woke up this morning with a David Bowie song in my head: Modern Love. Man, I really had a crush on David. There are certain childhood memories that come back stronger than the others, and many of them have to do with music. I grew up listening to old records, so there was a period when Gene Autry was all us kids listened to, then it was Steve and Eydie Gorme, "Go away little girl . . ." I mean, I grew up singing songs that other kids definitely weren't, and I'm really happy about that. But then the modern music became interesting and I loved Blondie and Elton John, Rick Springfield, Queen, David Bowie, and then Billy Idol. Remember Eyes Without a Face? That was a great song!

Other childhood memories that really stick out have to do with nature and playing in the backyard with neighborhood kids. There's just something beautiful about the memory of being this little, fresh human in the middle of a big field with the sun and the grass and all of us kids running around laughing, being free. It sounds corny, but it outshines all the moments that came. But one thing I've thought about is how much life changes. Sometimes it feels like it stays the same, but if you sort through all the years, there are phases and those phases change us like rings in a tree trunk. We keep adding these layers; we keep growing. We're standing still, but something is shifting and branching out. It's strange and exciting.