They say the music we listen to forms the soundtrack for our lives. They're right. Hearing certain songs can bring back past moments with such clarity that, even though days or weeks or months or years or even decades have passed, it's like we're right back at our remembered scene again. I guess you could call it audio-fueled time travel. From time to time here at Rock of Agers, we'll be writing about songs and their occasioned memories. If you have such a song, why don't you write about it too, send it to us, and we'll share it here on our rock blog. Just follow our loose format and email it to me - Dave Price - at email@example.com
In1965, I was the 13 years. I often rode with my Dad as he checked on his cleaning plants he had in different cities in South Jersey.
On this particular day we were in Bridgeton, our New Jersey hometown. We stopped for lunch at an eatery called Mr. Bill's. Now Mr. Bill's was like many small town eateries before the takeover of fast-food franchises - a small, somewhat dark place with a few booths and a long counter located on a main downtown street.
My Dad was always a counter person (I think it was so he could chat more with the waitresses, cooks, and everyone in the restaurant) and so we were sitting there. My Dad had been born in Texas and always favored southern food when he could get it. One of Capt. Bill's specialities was french fries with gravy. So both my Dad and I ordered a plate.
As were eating, "Michelle" by the Beatles came on the jukebox. I had heard the song before, but for some inexplicable reason this playing found its way into the recesses of my mind and permanently lodged itself there.
It wasn't as if anything momentous was happening. I can't recall a thing that was said. It was just a boy and his Dad in a local restaurant eating french fries in brown gravy with some southern hot sauce mixed in.
Now more than five decades later, my Dad, Capt. Bill's and the Beatles are long gone. I'm older now than my Dad was then. But wherever I am when I hear "Michelle" (which, ironically is one of my least favorite Beatles' songs), I'm actually at two places at once.
Of course, I'm where I am. But I'm also back in Bridgeton, just a 13-year-old boy in a small town eatery sharing french fires and gravy with his Dad.
-- by Dave Price