Some music seems to follow
us through life, and become new through experiences we associate with it along
the way. John Denver (of all people) is one of those guys who has come in and
out of my life at various times.
1st Era of JD:
As a child, John Denver
owned a place of honor in our car. His greatest hits cassette tape was one of
two cassette tapes we had in our little Ford Escort station wagon. The backseat
had bucket seats, but that didn’t stop my family from cramming three kids into
them on those occasions when we didn’t throw my step-brother into the back.
“You crossed the line.” “No – YOU crossed the line.” Oh, the fond memories of
childhood torture. Despite the ruckus we raised, we rarely got to listen to
music in that car. When we did, it was John Denver or Kenny Rogers.
We trekked from NW Iowa to
NE Iowa – a 5 hour drive that felt like a lifetime, on a regular basis. My
mom’s family was still in McGregor, as was my dad for most of my youth. It was
a place of reunions and kid exchanges. It was (and is) the home of my
heart. The Escort also took us vacationing to Canada (tent camping the
summer of a draught. Guess what? It rained the entire time). To Kansas City for
a Worlds of Fun adventure. To Mount Rushmore.
We had a few different
Escort wagons in my youth. They were all red. They were all really small. Not a
single one of them could climb a hill without having to downshift. Poor little
4 banger. John Denver was there to keep us company on the rare occasion my
parents tired of hearing kids arguing and turned on the radio.
2nd Era of JD:
Iowa State Fair. We made an
annual pilgrimage to the State Fair. I mostly remember my step-father staring
at the old engines that smoked and made loud noises. I remember expensive food
we didn’t eat and bologna sandwiches squashed in bags that we did eat. I
remember sweating profusely under the Iowa summer sun.
One summer (1984ish) John
Denver took over the grandstand. We had tickets. It was a combination of
excitement (we didn’t buy anything, like, ever) and pre-teen angst (dear Lord –
John Denver, really? But, like, my friends might see me? Gag me with a spoon…).
I spent the concert oscillating between singing along (I knew all the songs
courtesy of the cassette tape) and slouching in my seat acting disenchanted.
From
this vantage point, I can admit he was a great performer, an amazing story
teller, and a kind and gentle soul. I’m so glad I got to see him. I wish I
could tell that young girl to set aside the affect and listen closer. Remember
the set list. The timber of his voice. His laugh (which was contagious).
3rd Era of JD:
NE Iowa. A trip with a man
to kayak the Upper Iowa and hike the area.
A cabin outside Dorchester.
Secluded. Lovely.
The cabin owner provided all kinds of CD collections. What
did I select for the cabin's soundtrack? You know the one.
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