Welcome to my pond - Swim, wade, or sit on the bank

VW/WV when you find that motivation, give me the GPS coordinates, please.

If it ever happens, I surely will let you know.

(just don't hold yer breath waiting!)
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Since I now have this song stuck in my head, I'm going to do it to anyone else that may remember it.

Somehow my radio in the car was on an oldies station, and a song started playing this morning, and I was immediately transported back in time, to 1984, driving in my '72 hunter green Plymouth Valiant, with my college buddy (Hi Monica!) playing keyboards and drums on the dashboard, jamming like a couple of stoned little Italian gals...

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So my question is.... is there a song that does that to you? Takes you to a particular moment/place in time? What is it?
 
Nope, still not motivated to do any work. Coffee helped a little, I suppose. I did get motivated to get out of the bed, by hearing chirping come from my hatcher! :jumpy 3 out of 6 are out, 2 pipped, the last one hasn't pipped yet, but its the one that I put in the incubator almost a day later than the rest. Couldn't get any great pics, they weren't very cooperative... but I can show you that they have their momma's legs! I did knock on the window after taking this, to make sure this one was still alive! :D
Well since my incubator is turned off, so I guess I better stay in bed.
 
Since I now have this song stuck in my head, I'm going to do it to anyone else that may remember it.

Somehow my radio in the car was on an oldies station, and a song started playing this morning, and I was immediately transported back in time, to 1984, driving in my '72 hunter green Plymouth Valiant, with my college buddy (Hi Monica!) playing keyboards and drums on the dashboard, jamming like a couple of stoned little Italian gals...

0.jpg




So my question is.... is there a song that does that to you? Takes you to a particular moment/place in time? What is it?
OH, yes.....

Well since everyone has pulled up a bucket, a stool, or a turtle ottoman, it might be time for a Blooie story. I never listen to the radio when I'm driving. It makes me crazy! But Ken drove the van last and I was running a little late for a council meeting. I jumped in the van and headed for town hall, thinking about the meeting instead of the fact that that annoying piece of electronic gear was turned to an oldies station. It's just a few blocks from the house and just as I parked the car one particular song came on the radio. My hand froze on it's way to turn of the ignition switch...

I don't have a lot of happy high school memories, but it is so true that hearing a song can make a memory suddenly leap into your mind with amazing clarity. I dropped out of high school right after my 16th birthday. I turned 16 December 29th, during Christmas break, and never went back. Then in March I met Ken, and 6 days later I had my diamond. We were inseparable for that short time while he was home on leave from Viet Nam, but my dad said that if it was meant to be, it would survive the time we were apart when he went back to Nam.
Mom, my sisters and I were fixing Thanksgiving dinner that November when the phone rang. It was for me. I remember every word of that conversation.


"Diane *****?"
"Yes, this is Diane."
"This is Bill Proctor, DJ at KISD radio. How're ya doing today?"
I was totally puzzled. "Oh, fine."
"Well, I just wanted to make sure that your radio dial is set for KISD tonight about 6:30. Can you do that?"
"I guess so, but why?"
"Can't tell you that," said the DJ, "But I promise you won't be sorry." Well, I agreed, even though at the time I was working part time with the rival rock and roll station in Sioux Falls. I told Ma, "Okay, this has to be a joke and I'll bet Phil Huer (the DJ I worked for) is behind it."


We ate dinner around 4:30 and my sister Linda had to remind me to bring the radio into the kitchen and turn it on while we cleaned up. We suffered through some bad programming, Dad grousing about the kind of music kids listened to then, and then we heard:

"Diane, I hope you're out there listening. I got a special MARS radio call this morning from a young man in ChuLai, Viet Nam, and he told me about some special plans the two of you have for the spring. Do you know what I'm talking about?"

I don't know why I thought he could see me nod. I was in my kitchen and he was in the studio. Duh, Diane!
He went on to say, "He asked me to do him a favor and made a request for a special song. I'm proud to be part of this and to play this for you now, with love from Ken."
And my entire family sat in teary silence while the Mamas and Papas sang, "Dedicated to the One I Love."

When it was over, Dad stood up, cleared his throat and said, "I think it might be 'meant to be' after all."

I still remember exactly the smell of the Palmolive dish soap in the sink where the stubborn roasting pan was soaking. the tinkling sound of the dried silverware being put away, and the low murmurs of Ma's and Dad's voices in the living room every time I hear that song. I remember that the kitchen was still warm from having the oven on all day, and my littlest sister Bev was trying to sneak the flaky crust off the edges of the leftover pumpkin pie instead of wrapping it in foil and putting it in the fridge..
And I remember how it felt when love was young. Forty seven years later, the love has a slightly different, more comfortable feel to it, but just for the 3 minutes of that song, I am 16, in love, and a little scared all over again. I felt it again while I sat in the parking lot in a small town in Wyoming, late for a meeting and not caring one bit.
 

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