Sometimes an ending is a perfect way to have a beautiful beginning...

Wednesday, March 17, 2010

Good 'Ol Floyd

I was driving home from taking Savannah to school, usually Bethany and I are contemplating the day ahead but this morning I was itching to just listen to some music. Turn on the radio and start surfing... usual stations just not cutting it. I went to a station I don't usually listen to... it's a soft jazz station I only put on when 1) Bethany is screaming in the back seat or 2) the girls are fighting because Savannah is antagonizing her sister and Bethany has lost her temper or 3) I just don't want to know they are back there (come on, admit it... you've done it too).
So, on went the soft jazz station and it was so nice, soft, pleasant. A song came on that just transported me away to another time, another place. It was a song by Floyd Kramer (I waited to hear who it was) all instruments, no vocals. In one moment I was 'mama' heading home to do mundane chores, change diapers, clean, do laundry and the next I was fourteen years old, in a Honda Accord with my parents and my little brother (who would've been eleven) as we drove to the North Rim of the Grand Canyon on vacation. I believe my parents loved Floyd Kramer because they listened to it during the entire drive. No Michael Jackson, Madonna or even Hall and Oats (it was the '80s). Just Floyd Kramer. In the small car with their kids killing each other in the back. We were at the height of our sibling rivalry. He just drove me nuts as I'm sure my teenage self did to him.
I remember the weather was cool and overcast (the North Rim is like being in the mountains, trees and all) and I had on a Members Only jacket (why in Heaven's name would I remember this?) and we stopped to see some deer. Then we headed to the North Rim 'resort' we stayed at. We stayed in an adorable cabin, there were many. I met a friend who was staying there also. She was sweet, we vowed to keep in touch but never did. I think that was also the year we headed to Durango, Colorado. We rode the Durango to Silverton railroad (a three hour train trip up the mountain in open cars being pulled by a coal locomotive). Many years later Hubby and I found a painting of the exact same railroad going up the mountain and it's in our bedroom.
So, I drove home, not quite sure of how I got here because the entire time Floyd Kramer played I was fourteen and fighting with my brother in the Honda. Music is transporting and magical. Thanks Floyd.

1 comment:

  1. you're so right. a song can transport
    me back in a nanosecond.


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