Part II: Music (Juke Box)

Runaway, Del Shannon: "I'm walkin' in the rain. Tears are fallin' and I feel the pain. Wishin' you were here by me. To end this misery. And I wonder . . .". So it's not total refreshment because I can't give you a date or an exact moment in time that this song takes me back to. Instead, it is generally one of my first memories - my father singing this song to me. Today, it is one of the songs I sing to my son. Maybe one day he will have a similar recollection - without the record playing in the background.

Papa Don't Preach, Madonna: It's 1986. I am ten years old. I am in the basement wearing white high heel pumps stolen for a moment from my mother's closet. I am adorned with a white puffy skirt from my sister's closet. It is actually this tulle thing that used to be a requirement for wear under a prom dress. I will be seriously injured if she knows I have been in her room; perhaps dead if she finds out I actually had the courage to touch something AND leave with it. I add my own black leggings and hot pink head band. I look awesome. I accessorize with beads in all sizes. I am armed with a curling iron. I don't understand the lyrics yet, but I am amazing singing "Papa don't preach I'm in trouble deep. Papa don't Preach I've been losing sleep."

Livin' On a Prayer, Bon Jovi: It's 1987. I am with friends Sara, Erin and Kelly. The three of them have been friends practically since they were born. I have infiltrated the group. We beg Kelly's brother to give us a ride to the swimming pool. It is too hot to ride bikes. We jump into his new red convertible. Did I mention Kelly and Ben are spoiled brats? We jump into the red convertible. The top is down. The wind is blowing in our hair. I will look like a chia pet by the time it is over. The radio is blaring Bon Jovi. Everyone loves Bon Jovi. I strive to be different. I want to be dislike Bon Jovi - I am too cool for this. But I have to be honest with myself - it is just to good. I surrender and belt out - "We've got to hold on - ready or not. You live for the fight when it's all that you've got!"

Everything I Do, I Do It For You, Bryan Adams (theme song from Robin Hood, Prince of thieves): Its 1991. I have recently met Jon F. at a friend's cabin - while I was dating someone else. I fell hard and fast - at least by my standards then. After the cabin weekend he invited me for a surprise day. Somehow I convinced my mother to let me go. I did a lot of cry-begging as a young teen - this is one thing that boys have never picked up on as an effective method for getting what you want. I am pretty sure she did not realize that I slept in his sleeping bag at the cabin so that he could easily wake me up at dawn to watch the sunrise with him - or that he was there for that matter. I am sure she was just happy that my leaving for the day with Jon meant I would not be with Arin. Jon picked me up in the morning and we drove to a nearby town. Bryan Adams sang on the radio - no mistake Mr. F purchased the tape- yes tape, for me. We arrived at his friend's house. A helmet waited for me on the table. Dirt Bike Riding! So fun! On the way home, Jon explained that there was something he wanted to show me. Not what you think - It was a beautiful hidden bridge in the woods. We kissed. Awwww .... Soon, he left for basic training. He sent me a card declaring "I love you more than love." I think in total the relationship lasted three weeks - but still, one of the best dates ever.

Shake it Up, The Cars: It's 1992. I am in driver's ed. class. Our teacher, may his soul rest in peace, walks around unknowingly EVERY DAY with a bumper sticker on his butt that reads "Start seeing motorcycles" and I laugh EVERY DAY. One day the boys started passing around a pair of badly misshapen glasses that usually adorned the spaces inbetween the ears of Mr. G. When they landed on my desk I could not control myself. I laughed until I could not breathe. This made my friend Amy lose it. We both were kicked out and summoned to the hall for the rest of the period, which of course, we could have cared less about. On our actual driving days, a stop was always made at Mr.G's house to "check the laundry." The laundry detergent he used smelled like whiskey and made him fall asleep. I prepared for this exciting class and getting my license by driving around for hours with my sister's boyfriend (now husband) in his "T-top." I was the driver. He was the D.J. The only CD we ever listened to was Heartbeat City, The Cars. Shake it Up was my favorite. I requested it over and over and over.

Sweet Child 'O Mine, GNR: It's 1994. I am a caption on the basketball team. This position has many perks. One that you may not think of is having all your requested pre-game songs actually make the tape. That's right - there is nothing like a little GNR to get you pumped to play some serious defense and BOX OUT!

Crazy, Aerosmith: Still 1994. Senior Homecoming. I am going to a dance again for the second time with Henry a/k/a Hank. We are just friends. I am dating someone who has already graduated and unfortunately for me, there is nothing like a few years in college to make your man not want to come back to his hometown for a high school dance. I hold out a while for my crush to ask - but that was crazy - I do have a "boyfriend." He asks Zara - Amazon woman of a neighboring town. Now she is a rival. Crush and I sit on homecoming court together. Everyone has known of our "on again-off again" status since sixth grade, so naturally we are paired together. We walk around the gym hand in hand. We dance. The music shifts to Aerosmith. Our eyes lock. Something in the room has just shifted. I think this is bad news for Zara and Hank. He pulls me closer. Yes, this is definitely bad news for Zara and Hank. We leave together, assuming they will figure it out and leave together.

Wildflowers, Tom Petty: It's 1996. Pete has traveled with me to my hometown - the Arcade, as he calls it. I decide it is a good idea to go out to the local bars with Pete, my parents, and an ex-boyfriend (the "crush"). We venture to a bar called the Fish Tank (Which in a later year, I will refer to as Fish Guts, as I stand on a table at a wedding in which I am an attendant, in an attempt to continue the party. While I am successful at arranging an after-party, I never make it myself). Pete takes a chance at using a bathroom clad with pictures of nearly naked women. He re-joins the table and explains that he was asked whether he was "selling" while taking a piss. A common mistake - having long hair in the town of a population of 2,500 and all. Someone puts money in the Juke Box. Tom Petty's voice floods the bar. Pete looks directly in my eyes and sings "You belong among the wildflowers . . . you belong somewhere you feel free." It is the first time I have ever heard him sing. Nobody else is at the table. I am in love.

Cripple Creek, The Band; Scarlet Begonias, Grateful Dead; Uncle Sam, Grateful Dead; and You Turn Me On, Ugly Americans: It's any weekend in 1997 or 1998. Peter and I are on a road trip to somewhere. These songs make the cut every single time. Peter does not sing out loud in the car - except to Cripple Creek, Uncle Sam, and You Turn Me On. It makes me smile. When Scarlet Begonias is on, it is my turn to sing like I have never sung before - even if it does not sound very pleasant.

Real Love, John Lennon: Its 2001. I just graduated from Law School. Took the bar. Bought a first home. Now I am waiting on the top of hill. I walk down the aisle. My mother on one side of me, my father on the other. Jeff takes my hand. Leads me to the rest of our lives. Later that night, we dance.

Van Morrison, Have I Told You Lately That I Love You?" Its 2001. I just graduated from Law School. Took the bar. Bought a first home. Now I am waiting on the top of hill. My mother grabs one of my arms. My father looks at me, a tear in his eye - we both look away. Together, they lead me down the staircase that is our aisle. They let go at the bottom. Peter takes my hand. Later that night, again, my father takes my arm. A tear in his eye. We walk to the dance floor. The music plays, and we sing, "Have I told you lately that I love you? I have told you there's no one else above you?"

Hey Jude, Beatles: It's 2004. I have been told I am having a girl. We name her. Prepare the closet with lots of dresses. In the delivery room, the first words our son hears from his father is "Holy Shit! It's a boy!" I am not shaken at all. We name him Julian. A month later Peter and I leave him with Peter's parents for the first time. We walk into the movie theater. A song is playing - "Hey Jude." I freak out and try to convince Peter that we have to go home - it is a sign. (consequently the girl's name we picked out also had ties to the Lennon family - the short form of the name was to be Luci). Pete convinces me a "sign" is not always bad. But that this was a good sign - just reminding us that we are parents and how truly lucky we are. I have not heard that song in public since.

One, MJB and Bono: Its any day, any time. This song does not take me to any identifiable place, but almost a place outside my being. Another life perhaps. The lyrics are so powerful. It provides a recollection of all the feelings, emotions and passions that you have ever felt - both those that readily come to mind, and those that are buried deep.

Refreshing Recollections

Upon presenting a witness with a question that receives the response, "I don't remember," an attorney can attempt to refresh the witness' recollection. This can be done in many different ways. The most common - a photograph. If I were that witness, a photo would not necessarily aid in creating a picture in my mind the same way a couple less conventional methods would.

Part I: Smells

The Combination of Coffee and Toast: It is 1982. I am six years old. I just finished a hard day of first grade. I was teased a little by my crush (who would remain my crush, even though we dated off and on from 6th grade, until we both started dating those we married) when I showed up sporting my new very short hair cut, which I did not succumb to until after a long, drawn out crying/yelling match with my mother - me, crying, and mom, yelling - about how I could not have long hair if I was not willing to take care of it, i.e., wash it. R.G. wet his pants and had to wear the rug from the playhouse around school the rest of the day, which meant his day was much worse than mine. Then, after recess and telling time on the owl clock, I walked the two and a half blocks to my grandparents house, as I did everyday after school in the first grade. Upon arrival, my grandmother would set up a TV tray and serve me coffee and toast. It was perfect - until my sisters arrived. Yes, my grandmother is probably responsible for stunting my growth, but it was worth it!

Cigars: It is 1986. My grandfather and grandmother are at our house for dinner. Who knows what we ate. Probably some sort of casserole or something with mushroom soup served on top. After dinner, everyone goes into the basement. Sodas for my sisters and me. Beer for my parents and grandparents, and a cigar for my grandfather. The record player goes through Fats Domino, Del Shannon and Buddy Holly. At one point my grandfather stands up, one hand out to my grandmother. She accepts. And they dance, and dance, and dance. I love the smell of cigars.

Sunscreen: It is the summer of 1991, 1992, 1993, and 1994. I spend all of my waking hours at the swimming pool. I arrive at 7 a.m. to supervise lap swim. At 8 a.m. swimming lessons start. A lunch break occurs daily from 12 to 1 p.m. From 1 p.m. to 9 p.m. I model a bright red swimming suit - I own three of the same and seven others - with a white life guard cross on the front. I blow my whistle telling children to "stop that," "no running," and "no splashing." At 9 p.m. we shut the pool down and it is time for the lifeguards to play. We hold races and diving contests. But mostly, we are all friends, just enjoying summer evenings. I still cannot put on sunscreen without being taken back to the way the hard concrete felt on my bare feet, the way the ice cold water hit my skin the first thing in the morning and those summer - those summer nights . . .

Calvin Klein: It is 1992. I am in love for the first time. A first love that will consume years of my time - off and on - until I meet Pete. Something is on the television in his parents basement - where I will spend much of my time - off and on. He leans in. That smell. It lingers in elevators. At check-out lines. When present, it overpowers the coffeehouse coffee. It still sends me reeling.

Tobacco Pipes: It is 1994. I am on spring break with my best friend S and her family. It is my first vacation without my family. I need to bring everyone a souvenir. I am very proud of the treasures I accumulate. Upon arriving home, I hand my father the pipe I bought for his tobacco. Now I know it was probably not for tobacco, but he was so pleased - even upon informing me he no longer smokes a pipe. I was so disappointed. I love that smell - the smell of my father. Like Old Spice, without the bad cologne. It was the first time I knew I missed that smell lingering in the air. Even now, when I go out on the boat with him, I wait for him to pull out the pipe and send the smell of those sweet spices into the air. He never does.

Sunflowers Perfume: It is early 1995. I live in the dorms with my roommate Shell. We both wear the same scent on a daily basis. I am pretty sure I wore it first. Our room smells of Sunflowers all the time. While the smell now makes me a little sick, it also floods me images of what went down in Shoemaker Hall. I should have stayed there longer than a year - I moved on to Ivy I.

Suave: It is 1996. I live in Ivy I with three other girls. "The boys" live down the hall. Doors are always open. We have our first keg party. The place is jammin' - until we are summoned to the hallway and asked "Do you have a permit for that keg?" Busted. Good thing we had three kegs and gave the officers the empty. Everyone clears out, with the special guests given instructions to come back in an hour. I wear the noise violation ticket pinned to my chest, like a medal. Pete is a friend of special guests. He comes back after bar close. We are close enough that I take in the smell of the locks I wish I had. Almost every night since then (until he cut his hair and started using my Aveda hair products - and with the exception of the one year hiatus )I fall asleep to the understated scent of Suave. (Good thing my mother does not read my posts).

Caramel: It is 1998. I am about to graduate from college. I spend as much time as I can with Sarah, when I am not spending time with Pete. It is sunny and warm on her mother's front porch. We sit. Content to do nothing. Drinking caramel tea Sarah brought back with her from France. When she goes back to France, she returns with a stash for me. A stash I have long gone through and cannot find in the U.S. But that smell . . . it still lingers in mugs no longer used for tea.

Tanquery: It is 2000. I am in law school. A new situation calls for a new drink of choice. Skipping out of Torts and spending the hour sipping gin and juice at Grandma's sounds like a fabulous decision. CS explains how she knows she is going to fail contracts. The rest of us tell her she is smart. KM describes the man she met at the bar when she went out by herself the other night. The rest of us ask why she went out by herself. CW leaves the table to telephone her boyfriend. The rest of us whisper she should not do that. I discuss updates on the situation with Pete. The rest nod in what I perceive to be understanding. Torts lets out and the rest of the class start to file in. We still sit in our same booth. Some days we have held that booth since lunch. Tanquery tastes like Christmas. I love Christmas.

Homeland: A Visitor's Guide

The Wisconsin license plate on my Chevy HHR rental (what an odd vehicle) does not seem even remotely unfamiliar. Glancing at the plate upon pick-up from stall 38, it seems as though the plate on the car I drive has always had a white background with black lettering and some red details. Fond memories of my Pontiac Sunbird come rushing back - like that scene in Flatliners, only not so scary. If only Sweet Child 'O Mine was flooding the radio waves, all would be perfect. It's not. I turn the radio louder anyway, Snow Patrol is good, (doesn't everyone really just want someone to lay with them and just forget the world?) but just not the same.

Driving with the windows down into the city of Milwaukee, the air smells vaguely familiar - vaguely. Something is missing. Perhaps it is the absence of cows. Their absence on the side of the road, however, is more than compensated for by the abundance of cows filling shelves of novelty stores along Michigan Avenue, attempting to bring in all the tourists that the State of Wisconsin draws - the Packers, the Brewers, the House on the Rock - who wouldn't come here to buy their necessary cow coasters, T-shirts, shot glasses? Oh - and I shouldn't forget the green and gold - you can get anything - everything in green and gold (which reminds me, I have to stop on my way tomorrow and get that cheese head for Little Pete - you think I am joking, don't you?)

Wisconsin also offers great cuisine. I love the part where the waiters repeatedly address you as "My Queen" throughout dinner - checking in on you say, oh five or six times. No numbers were left on the table. Just a nice tip. That I am not paying for anyway. And to think, I originally snubbed the hotel's recommendation of Applebee's.

The Courtyards in Wisconsin are unprecedented for the amenities. No hand towels in the rooms - it's just a waste anyway. Instead, there are bigger and better bath towels! Blankets - who needs them? The Courtyard Milwaukee Downtown has fancy bed runners that will warm your feet - really the most important part. My mother used to tell me if your feet are warm, the rest of you will be warm. Or am I confusing that with the one about heat escaping from the head, so always wear a hat? Whatever, Courtyard sells hats in its market - they say "GB." They also sell beer. Miller. The Courtyard has a whirlpool that comes with its own gang. A sales person, a marketing consultant and a land developer. No leisure book reading here. When I grew tired of the talk of timber and the President being in town (or maybe it was that I was insulted by the comments about how no would ever guess I was a mother), I was able to retire to my room and choose between drinking a $3.00 bottle of water or a $3.00 pot of Starbuck's coffee,which is proudly brewed here!

I am tired of being a visitor. Maybe I should go for a ride in my burnt orange vehicle. Roll the windows down. Chase cars. That feels more like Home.