#15: You Ain't Going Nowhere -- Shawn Colvin, Mary Chapin Carpenter and Rosanne Cash (1992)

This is a Dylan song that I heard for the first time in junior high (8th grade or thereabouts) when I put my brothers copy of The Byrd's Sweetheart of the Rodeo on his turntable. It was country, and I liked the song, but it did not make that much of an impact on me. When I heard this recording from the 30th Anniversary CD that Rachel bought, it blew me away.

The lyrics have always appealed to me. Looking forward to good times and discarding the rough times, Dylan writes get your mind off wintertime/you ain't going nowhere. This could be a veiled warning or an expression that you will stay in summer. I've tended to read it as the latter. But then,  I suppose I am an optimist. This may be quite surprising to some people, but those who know me best would probably agree that I am. Dylan wrote this song at a time when he was recovering from his motorcycle accident in 1966. I ran into this song when I was in Iowa City, struggling through a third unproductive year of crap at the University.

I am particularly drawn to the lyric strap yourself to a tree with roots/you ain't goin nowhere. Perhaps it is a different song if a woman is singing it; the more I think about it, the difference between Graham Parsons and Colvin, Carpenter and Cash lay in the nexus of belief, trust and control. Belief and trust are two very different things. We can have both in ourselves, but it means so much more when someone else has those things in us. It gives us power to do things that we never thought possible.

One thing that I complain about with the current crop of students that I deal with is this. They believe in themselves, yet constantly need affirmation. Maybe this is due to parents who moan about AP classes and assorted crap. OMG! MY CHILD GOT A 3 ON THE AP EURO TEST! parents, don't treat your children like receptacles of failure, but don't kiss their asses either. There is a balance to be struck to forge adults.

The last verse purposefully does not rhyme, in that


Genghis Khan could not keep
All his general supplied with sleep
We'll climb that hill no matter how steep
When we get up to it

Right on. The message of this song is to take what you have, be purposefully happy with it, and go on. Problems are in the future, and some of those you will never have dreamed of in 1000 years. Climb 'em when you get there; if you worry about how things should be, you will never see the hill that gives you meaning.

I am not a parent, and I do not know what being a parent entails. My father was less a dad to me than my brother was. My mother was caring and very supportive but maintained a distance that I am still uncomfortable with. They did the best job possible for them, and I have my own problems. Those problems are my own; some roots are with my folks, but

Get your mind off wintertime
You ain't goin' nowhere

The wintertime is cold, colorless. It is not dead; there is life beneath that crust. The past is truly dead, but we keep it alive through our choices. As I am over 40, I am just beginning to realize this and desperately working to bend the passages my former choices produced. We all get there, it just takes some people longer if they get the chance. We need to help them notice the chances. When we see those chances, and people taking them, there is cause for celebration.

Oh oh, are we gonna fly
Down in the easy chair!


.

San Francisco Cantos I and II

I.
Shadows of Haight phantoms of movements
angry drunks and street musicians
hookah shops and vintage clothes.
Need any weed? 
Anarchist bookstore owners haggle
over refunds while the ghosts stare down
from their shelves. Tourists elbow past looking
for something, anything. Take those pictures
on the famous corner while the addicts yell
Fuck you, man! I ain't sharing nothing with you!
Got a picture of Jerry in your window?
Got a tye-dyed shirt with a skull and a bear
trading on Old Gods Long Dead?
Got a picture of Janis, George and Levon?

II.
The shop wanted thirteen dollars for
a fried green tomato sandwich with
something called aioli. In Georgia it would
run about four dollars or less. Pay for
convenience and ambiance and look out
the window in the break in wifely conversation
and see drunks and twentysomethings
and technicolor spectres of ancient pasts.
Shove your aioli
and your homemade mayo
and your five dollar french fries
made from one sustainably grown spud.
Expensive with a taste that I can
recreate at home. Is that your message?
That we should not drive here to eat
food that can be done at home for
less cost and less gas?

#14: Scenes from an Italian Restaurant -- Billy Joel (1977)

This is again one of those songs that I know from Bill. Billy Joel was his favorite musician, and for some reason this song has made appearances over the past few weeks.

1. While we were in Vegas, John off handedly said "bottle of red, bottle of white" and I replied "Whatever kind of mood you're in tonight." Yes, I know. Nerdy.

2. When I told this to Rachel, she got that "What?" look on her face when I reference something that she does not know. So, I had to do a bit of the song.

The song is in three sections: people get together who were friends in, you guessed it, an Italian Restaurant. Joined by a sax solo, they reminisce about old times and catch each other up.

As I get older, it is fascinating how much songs change meaning. When I was in high school, this song was Bill's domain of last chances and lost people. When Joel sings "Things are OK with me these days" and rattles off a list of things that end with "fine" we all know it to be bull shit, but I bought it as a 14 year old. New office, wife meant things were good. I was a materialist even then, obsessed with how much I make.

And then the conversation turns to Brenda and Eddie, high school sweethearts who get married. As someone who married their high school sweetheart, this area of the song has special resonance for precisely the right reasons. In the song, things fall apart:

they lived for a while in a very nice style

but it's always the same in the end

they got a divorce as a matter of course

and they parted the closest of friends.

Rachel and I have come close to falling apart, closer than I probably realize. The thing is, it doesn't always have to be the same in the end. People do grow apart; Rachel is quite a different person now than when I married her. Many of our difficulties lay in the idea that I think I am not a better person than I am. She knows and appreciates my qualities, much more than I do. People cannot stay the same, as there would be no growth. I have not grown as much as I would have liked, and view this as meaning that I am some kind of fuck up. I am intensely proud of my wife and her many accomplishments, and could never think of a better person to be with.

This song is all about appearances, and so is my mind. It functions, sometimes very well, but I make poor decisions that I do not understand. One thing that I make a conscious effort to never do is take Rachel for granted. This is one of the mistakes made by the young couple.

They just didn't' count on the tears

At first, I know that I did not, either. Anyone in a relationship knows that there are ups and downs. For younger people these are fast: this song could never be written today, as either one of the people would have solicited relationship advice for any one of 100000 internet advice cites that link to the HuffPo. Swayed to one side or the other, they will make a choice and very few people part as friends anymore. People change, and there will be tears. People do not grow in a positive direction at all times. Older couples know this; the point is to believe that the negative is a period and not a permanent. Positives are the same. Brenda and Eddie were the king and the queen of the prom, but that never lasts.

So the king and the queen went back to the green

But you can never go back there again

You can, but you are no longer the king and queen. Be thankful for that, as being the star athlete, prom king, famous in whatever way ends.

#13: We Are Family -- Sister Sledge (1979)

1979 was the year that I became aware of sports. More importantly it was the year that I became aware of baseball. This is a blessing and a curse. A blessing in that I listened off and on that summer to the Cubs and Cardinals on the radio and was introduced to the wonderful voices of Jack Brickhouse and Jack Buck.

The curse, if you will, was Pittsburgh. In 1979, Pittsburgh was mired in a long slump as the steel mills and heavy industry, instrumental in building New York City (among others) completely fell apart along with much of the industrial Midwest. I knew of the Steelers, because new Iowa football coach Hayden Fry changed the Iowa Hawkeye football uniforms to reflect the best football team in the NFL.

 I think during a game of the week that summer (remember when they had those on TV?) I saw this man, twirling the bat in what looked like impossibly large hands.

Notice the hat. I wanted one. I had never seen anything like it. I asked my dad who this man was. He replied "That's Willie Stargell. They call him "Pops." It made no difference to me that this man was by that point a 39 year old first baseman with only three years left in a hall of fame career. It did not matter that in 1979 he was in the midst of the last year he would hit 30 home runs (he had done it 5 times before). Pops was named the MVP of the National League that year. He then hit .455 in the NL Championship series, driving in six runs in three games. Oh yeah, then the World Series, the first that I ever watched in full. All seven games. Pops didn't disappoint me then, hitting .400 for the series with 3 homers; seven of his 12 hits went for extra bases, and the Pirates came back from a 3-1 deficit to beat the Orioles. One of my life's few regrets is that I never got to see him play, as he retired after the 1982 season. He died on Opening Day 2001. By the way, he handed out those stars for smart plays and good baseball.

Stargell picked this song to be the theme of that 1979 team because this is what they were. In today's sports talk shows and mental masturbation, we hear a lot about "teamwork", "spirit" and "heart". This team had it, but it also had damn good ballplayers. Stargell knew that, and pushed them to do great things. The lineup featured hall of famers in Stargell and pitcher Bert Blyleven, borderline hall of fame candidate Dave Parker (two time NL MVP). After losing to the Cubs 11-3 on August 9th, the Pirates won 34 of their last 50 games. Stargell led this team because he felt he had to; after the death of Roberto Clemente in 1972, this became his team. In the 1970s, the Pirates were the first team to field an all African American lineup. These guys played hard and played together.

Living life is fun and we've just begun
To get our share of the world's delights
(HIGH!) high hopes we have for the future
And our goal's in sight
(WE!) no we don't get depressed
Here's what we call our golden rule
Have faith in you and the things you do
You won't go wrong
This is our family Jewel

There were drugs. There were fights (at one point, Parker took to the field wearing a trash can. When asked, he said that he lost his glove and borrowed Phil Garner's). Once, when told by a reporter that Dave Parker said "he (Stargell) is the player I admire most" Stargell replied "Well, that's good. It used to be himself." Stargell led by example; if there was ever a team that won and lived on the emotion of one man, this is it. Need a hit? Pops would Provide.  In game 7 of the Series, Stargell homered off lefty Scott McGregor in the 6th to give the Bucs a 2-1 lead. When they needed him most, Pops went 4-5, driving in two of the four runs. In game 5, a must win, Stargell produced a sac fly to put the Pirates up 1-0 in the 6th.

 Led by Chuck Tanner, the Family had the best nicknames: Pops, Scrap Iron, Mad Dog, Cobra, The Hammer, Sangy, The Hit Man, The Candy Man, Teke (or Bones), Caveman and Buck (or Willie Stargell, Phil Garner, Bill Madlock, Dave Parker, John Milner, Manny Sanguillen, Mike Easler, John Candelaria, Kent Tekulve, Don Robinson and Grant Jackson).

I wanted to hit like Willie Stargell (even in batting cages, I windmill the bat around) and throw like Kent Tekulve. A very thin man (6'4, 180 lbs) who saved three games in the 1979 series, Tekulve was a "submariner".

When he retired, he was only one of two pitchers to appear in 1000 games in the majors. There are now 15. When I threw like him when I was a kid, my brother yelled at me and asked what was wrong with my arm "that I couldn't throw overhand".  I shouldn't have listened to him. I may have turned out to be a middling successful AA pitcher.

I owe this team a lot, as it made me a lifetime Pirates fan. I could not think of a better team to watch. Since 1979, they have not won a World Series. From 1990-92, they won their division but could not beat the Reds and Braves to get to the World Series. Until this year, they have not had a winning record for half of my life. But, they are my team. For a kid, the sight of a group of grown men charging out of a dugout labeled "The Family"  to the sound of this song seemed perfect. I actually thought all of these guys lived together in one huge house and drove together to the games. A psychologist could point to a hoary relationship between my own fractured family and this idealized one, but I call B.S. on that. I would not have remained if that was the case. Now, I wear my Andrew McCutchen and Pedro Alvarez shirts with pride, and really love the Forbes Field model I have on my desk. They are in the playoffs this year, the first time in 21 years I can watch my favorite team play in the postseason.

For my money, this team exemplifies what sports should be but almost never is. They represented a city down on its luck and gave them something good. They were Black, White and Latino working together. They produced under pressure. They were fun to watch. And they had an awesome theme song.

#12: 1979 by the Smashing Pumpkins (1996)

Billy Corgan wrote this song as a description of his teenage years in the suburbia that surrounds Chicago. It is my considerate opinion that if you grew up in the Midwest you identify with this music video more than any other that has ever been made.

But that is not why it is on the list. It isn't Corgan's bald melon in the backseat. It isn't the cute blonde girl wearing what looks like a kilt. It isn't the cute blonde girl swimming around in a pool owned by some unknown neighbor of the house party where you are drinking warm beer from a plastic cup. It isn't even peeing and finding two people making out in the bathtub. I've seen one of those things, and it sure as hell didn't involve a cute blonde anywhere near a pool.

This song is a perfect comment on teenagerdom, beginning with the first word of the song: "Shakedown". A shakedown can be blackmail, a search of a person or a test of performance. For all of us, years spent as a teenager are a shakedown in every sense of the word.

When I heard this song the first time, I was 23 years old and on the verge of dropping out of the University of Iowa, two classes short of a BA. What BA you ask? A double major in History and Anthropology, with a minor in Religion thrown in for good measure. Why drop out? I no longer belonged there.

That we don't even care
As restless as we are
We feel the pull
In the Land of a Thousand Guilts

I wanted something more. I felt guilt, to be sure. It is my constant companion. The operative word is restless. Teenagers are restless, knowing that time is moving but they seem to be staying constant. This is a lie, obviously, but one you cannot see from the inside. It is what makes teenagers so interesting to teach and interact with. As an adult, you are infuriated by many of their actions but know what awaits them. As you try to share this knowledge, you get even more angry that they do not want it.

No apologies ever need be made

Being a teenager is a test of performance. High school does not determine ones life (far from it) but it helps determine your make up. Do you quit? Focus on one thing above all others? Move from friend to friend? Abandon those who no longer can help you move up the social ladder? Remain loyal to those who aren't cool? Strive to be something you are not? Listen more than you speak? Show contempt or empathy in the course of everyday drama? Within these questions lie the real person we are to become, and one or two people get to know that real person. If we are lucky, we remain in contact with them for the rest of our lives.

I know you, better than you fake it

We change constantly as people, but we are never so naked emotionally as when we are 14 or 15. In the most challenging times in our lives we go back to patterns established earlier. In 1996 I knew my time at the UI was exhausted. I dropped it and went on. I would never go back and change this, even though it delayed my "professional life" by several years. I would not change high school one bit either. Not because I was happy (for 90% of it I most certainly was not) or successful (I was pretty good) or was lucky enough to have a shared locker next to a beautiful girl (who is a beautiful woman now and also my wife) but because those four years allow us to search within and without ourselves for what is important. Not friends in the mean sense, or party, but a sense of community and belonging, no matter what group we find ourselves in.

Justine never knew the rules
Hung down with the freaks and ghouls

When I was 15 or 16 I realized that when I was comfortable with the people around me, that was where I should be. This is as close to a universal truth as is possible. The friends we have in high school stay with us, specters in the guise of the new demanding comparison to those we meet. As we form ourselves we determine what qualities of people are important. We shakedown others as we take ourselves out for the shakedown cruise of dances, kisses, sex, booze....a carnival of experience that serves as a bar of comparison for the rest of our lives. The first we always remember despite our best attempts to forget. Not because it is the best but because it is the introduction to emotion, power and life.

And we don't know
Just where our bones will rest
To dust
I guess
Forgotten and absorbed
To the earth below