You Spin Me Right Round, Baby, Right Round
“Reading departure signs in some big airport, reminds me of the places I’ve been. Visions of good times that brought so much pleasure make me want to go back again.” —Jimmy Buffett, Changes in Latitudes, Changes in Attitudes
Hi there!
Last week I had the good fortune of spending a couple of days in Oslo, Norway. Yes, it was expensive and cold—the locals all seemed to embrace the quote: There is no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothes, and looked genuinely happy despite either. Access to nature was plentiful and no, we did not see the Northern Lights, as Oslo is too far south. It is though a very modern city with beautiful architecture, intriguing sculptures, a fantastic public transport system, home to many parks, restaurants and shops, and for those willing, the chance to engage in what was one of our favorite experiences: a wood-fired sauna bath followed by a cold water plunge in the near-freezing Oslo fjord.
Truth be told, I hadn’t really given much thought to Norway, not since the 94 Winter Olympics in Lillehammer, until I saw this ad for Oslo. Maybe it’ll sway you, too.
We took a short drive the other day and the question came up as to which singers alive today would we grieve the loss of when they died. Actually, the question arose from the much larger debate of do listeners and fans today share the same intimate connection to their favorite bands and singers as before the internet age that would inspire the same heart-wrenching, and possibly a good cry-inducing, reaction to the artist’s death?
It’s a valid question. For instance, did I mourn the loss of Jimmy Buffett solely because I liked his music and had connected, perhaps personally, to a few of his songs? Or did I miss him because of the steps it had taken to develop such an intimate connection, going back as far as when I first fell in love with his music? You, who are old enough, know those steps well: The anticipation of awaiting the release of a new album, on that exact date going to the record store, searching amongst the stacks, handing money across the counter, watching them bag it, then bringing it home, taking the record from the sleeve, sometimes discovering—with ecstatic joy— that the lyrics were printed there, for everyone to follow along! Finally then, intentionally setting the needle, and resting against the chairback or bedframe to absorb the sound, to not just listen, but to feel the sound wash over you in a moment that felt so alive and so very present. Compare those steps to the emotionless action that links many of us these days to the artists and their songs by clicking a virtual button labeled Play (or worse, Next).
What about concerts, you might ask? Another good question, one I’ll answer with a short short story.
There once was a couple who loved the band Dire Straits so much so that decades after falling in love they saw that the group would be performing a short flight away, in an area of Europe they’d always wanted to visit. And so the couple planned a trip. A six day excursion throughout that particular region, full of good food, good fun and a similar feeling of anticipation of the collective joy that would soon be theirs to share in together. On the night of the concert, indeed in the hour just prior to it starting, one of them posed the question as to whether or not this was that Dire Straits. You know, the one in which they’d fallen in love to over, the real Dire Straits, if you will. The question was raised because missing from all of the marketing surrounding the show was any mention of lead guitarist Mark Knopfler, which was strange to say the least. A quick search online provided the answer that this band was actually called the Dire Straits Experience, and for very good reason.
The original band had broken up in the mid 90s, a fact we now know because on that particular night the only member of the original band on stage was the sax player (which was awesome). To the question, however, was the experience of listening to songs they fell in love to over played live amongst an audience of other lovers of Dire Straits any less of a treasure?
No, of course not. It was amazing!
For those wondering, I’m putting together a playlist as means of exploring the original question in greater detail. Look for it soon.
A Few Other Measures that Matter:
- Speaking of loss, this week I've been made aware, through a Facebook Page I follow, of an old friend and one past elementary school principal of mine who died recently. I only discovered this news because someone kind took the time to share the death announcement of FB, which is, I believe, a very good use of the internet. It does make you wish though that such thoughtful reminders that someone once meant something special to you would not require such a tragic occasion. It’s a real tragedy that bringing people together is not how social media has evolved.
- What has evolved, or rather devolved, I guess I should say, is the anticipation I once felt for Spring’s arrival every February. It was during this time, when Franca and I would sit down and compose a detailed plan for our garden. It was a great time of looking forward, of becoming part of nature, not above of it. Realizing now how much I enjoyed spending that time, I'm feeling a bit disappointed that we didn’t find a home in Sicily with space for a garden. Any experts out there on container gardening willing to share their thoughts? Go ahead and factor in about 300 days of sunshine per year.
- Saturday Night Live’s 50th Anniversary Special was this week and although I enjoyed it as we sat for the full 2+ hours of runtime, when it was said and done I found myself wishing they’d covered more of the early decade of SNL, when I would’ve been a teenager watching it. I think it was a missed opportunity to open the eyes to a new generation of viewers who might’ve watched it with us, as one of our own kids did, and therefore could experience it through our eyes. What a gift to become privy to that memory, if only through a silly, two minute skit.
- One moment of awe worth sharing of the present is the eruption of Mount Etna. We have a view of this from our house and can honestly say we never tire of whatever show that fierce beautiful mountain is putting on.
- Finally, we’ve both travelled recently and got to experience visiting other bakeries, and while it hasn’t necessarily made us wish to return to the days of having a public kitchen of our own it has been a nice reminder of the one in which we were lucky enough to spend so much time and share so much of something we loved. If you knew it, too, well we still thank you for helping to make it our special little home away from home.
Thanks for being here. I appreciate it more than you could know.
Alla prossima!
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