I’m sure we all have experienced that music, certain
smells or words you read or hear can instantly bring back memories. For example
a while ago I was reading the back jacket of a book where the “Journey to the
Center o the Earth” by Jules Verne was mentioned. In my head I instantly heard
the music and then the lyrics from the beginning of Rick Wakemans album of the
same title… “By horse, by rail, by land, by sea the journey starts….” I had not
listened to this for a very looooong time but here it was, the whole orchestra
and all.
When I was 19 I lived in the suburbs of Paris in a place called Saint-Rémy-lès-Chevreuse, a nanny to 3 kids. One evening they were all sound asleep in their beds, the parents off to some function (Yoplait Executives) and I was listening, for the first time, to Antonín Dvořák’s Symphony of the New world…. Just as the second movement was starting the full moon was slowly rising through the leaf-less branches of the wintery trees in the backyard, illuminating the frosty ground outside, casting a silver glow over the entire yardscape. The Oboe escorting it’s rise, the flutes and violins guiding it above the trees….. I opened the Patio door, deeply breathing in the crisp Winter air caught up in a magical moment, forever imbedded in my memory and to this day every time I hear that piece of beautiful music this image comes back to me as if had just happened. I’ll be 56 tomorrow.
When I was 19 I lived in the suburbs of Paris in a place called Saint-Rémy-lès-Chevreuse, a nanny to 3 kids. One evening they were all sound asleep in their beds, the parents off to some function (Yoplait Executives) and I was listening, for the first time, to Antonín Dvořák’s Symphony of the New world…. Just as the second movement was starting the full moon was slowly rising through the leaf-less branches of the wintery trees in the backyard, illuminating the frosty ground outside, casting a silver glow over the entire yardscape. The Oboe escorting it’s rise, the flutes and violins guiding it above the trees….. I opened the Patio door, deeply breathing in the crisp Winter air caught up in a magical moment, forever imbedded in my memory and to this day every time I hear that piece of beautiful music this image comes back to me as if had just happened. I’ll be 56 tomorrow.
No comments:
Post a Comment