Does your life have a soundtrack?
Mine does. All the time. At least, when I am healthy, I hear music. No, I am not hallucinating. I was raised by time warp beatniks who had music parties where we sang. My father played guitar. My mother was amazing at memorizing the words and both my sister and I did too. My parents had to edit songs, drop songs and quit playing the "When Dalliance was in Flower and Maidens Lost Their Heads" records because I was memorizing those words. Before Kindergarten.
Sometimes the soundtrack relates to a song that I've been listening to over and over. Or a whole record. Or to the concert we are doing, so for the last week I've awakened with Hayden or Mozart or Jake Runested because our concert was Friday and Saturday.
Sometimes the soundtrack is very appropriate for the situation or fabulously inappropriate. I tend not to share it.
Just before the hospital got rid of me in 2009, I come to clinic after feeling attacked by my partners in a meeting. No warning, not on the agenda. So I am in high armor mode. And the soundrack that morning...makes me laugh. Two of my partners are in the little office with me. I start to hum. Hook, line....
"What is that?" says one of the partners....
"Oh," I say cheerfully. "We are working on it for the next concert. It's in my head this morning, I can't imagine why."
I sing:
"Do you hear the people sing?
Singing the song of angry men.
Who will not be slaves again!
When the beating of your heart
Echoes the beating of the drums
There is a life about to start
When tomorrow comes!
Will you join in our crusade?
Who will be strong and stand with me?
Beyond the barricade
Is there a world you long to see?
Then join in the fight
That will give you the right to be free!"
I stop. There is a long silence. My partners were male, so, yeah, let's call it a pregnant silence.
"It's inspiring. Hope you can come to our concert!" I say. "Let me know if you want tickets. Time for patients, have a great day."