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It’s psychologically rewarding and just plain fun to reminisce about your life. Normally, we do it by revisiting signature accomplishments: for example, graduation, first job, marriage, kids.
Less obvious emotional nuggets can often be unearthed by walking through your life and thinking of any music that was significant. For each that was important to you, you might write its emotional significance for you. To kick off your thinking, here’s what I wrote about the music of my life:
"God Bless America"
Perhaps my earliest memory, when I was still in the crib, was our neighbor coming into my room and, alongside my parents—new immigrants—singing "God Bless America." That made me feel that America must be good. Most of me still thinks that, although I do worry about our de-prioritizing merit in favor of other factors.
"Chopsticks"
In the vacant lot in the back of the Bronx tenement in which I lived, there was an old upright piano, rained on, snowed on. But the kids banged on it anyway. I remember being transfixed and then tried playing what they were: "Chopsticks." I did okay, and then I may have been the first child in history to ask parents for piano lessons. I was always a nervous, indeed colicky child, and music calmed me. Perhaps that was part of music's appeal.
"A Wonderful Guy"
My first-grade teacher led the class in songs with her accompanying on the piano. Once, she let me accompany. I still remember the song, A Wonderful Guy from the show South Pacific. For some reason, I remember loving the first chord of the bridge, which sounded so cool to me. And I wondered what the word “bromidic” meant. That experience provided an early sign that music would be a key part of my life.
"Nature Boy"
This was my mother’s favorite song. As she was cooking or cleaning, this was the song she’d most often sing. While I was too young to understand the lyrics’ meaning, I got the sense they were important. I was right:
There was a boy,
A very strange enchanted boy
They say he wandered very far, very far
Over land and sea.
A little shy and sad of eye
But very wise was he.
And then one day,
A magic day he passed my way.
And while we spoke of many things,
Fools and kings,
This he said to me:
"The greatest thing you'll ever learn
Is just to love and be loved in return."
"Moonlight Sonata"
When I learned to play this, I thought it was the most beautiful thing I ever heard. To this day, I play it and try to imbue it with as much feeling as I can.
"To Know, Know, Know You Is to Love, Love, Love You"
At the first boy-girl party I recall attending, in the 5th grade, I remember that song auto-playing again and again, with my “girlfriend” Rita in my arms, in heaven. Ah, first dances.
"The Little Red School House"
At 6th-grade graduation, I got to accompany a teacher singing that song. It was one of my school years’ few happy moments. You see, I was hyperactive and, because of it, disliked by teachers and kids alike. If Ritalin had been available then, they would have put me on it intravenously.
Tom Lehrer songs
Lehrer opened my eyes to the power of smart lyrics when I heard songs like "Pollution, Who’s Next" and "National Brotherhood Week." That fueled me to learn nearly all his songs, including the tongue-twisting "Lobachevsky" and "The Elements," the lyrics of which were the names of all the chemical elements set to a Gilbert and Sullivan tune.
"We’re Off to See the Wizard"
In high school, on the night our group won a skit competition, we all skipped down the street singing "We’re Off to See the Wizard." For perhaps the only time in my life, I felt like I was part of the in crowd.
The Beatles, Stones, Bob Dylan, etc.
The near-universal adulation of such music reinforced how out-of-step I was (and still am). I was and remain convinced that their music is talent-light, promoting drugged-out lifestyles, and simply is less pleasurable to listen to than that of, for example, Barbra Streisand, Nat King Cole, and especially music from Broadway shows, such as West Side Story, Sound of Music, and Fiddler on the Roof.
The SEEK chant
I was eating breakfast in the college cafeteria looking out the 10-story window. My reverie was broken suddenly by a mob of chanting students who had been admitted to the college under drastically lowered standards (the SEEK Program), and who then destroyed the window. I was shocked, confused, trying to understand, but in the end, angry and dismissive of their cause.
"Happy"
On a first date, Barbara and I saw the original production of the show The Fantasticks. On the way back to my car, we passed a piano bar. Eager to impress her, we went in, and I asked the pianist if I could play a song for her. I played "Happy" from a movie about Billie Holiday. Barbara, now my wife of 43 years, said she felt that was romantic, and I was touched.
"The One"
I wrote a piece of music to reflect the career-finding process of many of my career counseling clients. I often play it for clients, and they find it moving, which in turn moves me.
"Maple Leaf Rag"
A while back, I developed a hand condition which renders one of my fingers useless and two others semi-useless in playing the piano. Soon after, I was asked to play the piano for the gala reopening of the Napa Valley Opera House. I played Maple Leaf Rag. Because of my hand condition, I was scared I’d screw up. Fortunately, I didn’t. When I tell my clients that, they say it inspires them to rebound from their adversities.
"My Yiddishe Mama"
When my mom was dying, every day she asked me to sing the same song: "My Yiddishe Mama." No music gave me more pleasure.
The takeaway
So, what is the music of your life? After a writing comment on each, do you see any threads about your past or what you’d like for your future?
