Music

Mary had a chemistry test last week and she had to memorize the first 30 elements on the periodic table.

Notwithstanding that knowing the first 30 elements on the periodic table has consistently come in handy during my adult life and career, I was concerned that Mary would struggle with the test.

Not to worry, she said. “There’s a song that I’ve learned that lists them in order.”

I related that story to my dental hygienist and she said, “Oh yeah, that’s how I remembered all of the US Presidents, in order, when I was in school.”

My dad once told me, “Melody aids memory.”

It’s true.

Music is a great way to remember things, including scripture. I think that is one of the greatest things about Christian music and Christian radio.

Music also has the power to bring back memories. Ones that were hidden somewhere in the deep parts of our brains that we seldom access.

That happened to me the other day when I heard an old song by Ray Charles called, “You don’t know me.”

I hadn’t heard that song in years. Perhaps decades. But I remembered most of the words.

I also remembered where I was when I listened to it, and that’s the coolest part of this story.

I was born in 1957. That song came out in 1962. So I was about 5 or 6 years old when my parents bought the album.

The played it on a hi-fi in our living room.

Anybody else remember hi-fi’s?

Ours looked similar to this one:

I remember our living room as being small and sparse. The hi-fi shared space with the TV (black and white), a sofa with hard cushions, and a couple of chairs.

In addition to Ray Charles, Mom and Dad’s record collection included Roy Orbison, Chet Atkins, Patsy Cline, Johnny Cash, Eddie Arnold, Gene Pitney, Glen Campbell, Jim Reeves, Charlie Pride, and, Mom’s favorite, Elvis Presley.

We listened to those albums more than we watched TV. Maybe it was because we only got one channel, unless the weather was just right and we could pull in the Philadelphia stations.

The hi-fi had a thin metal post and the records had a hole in the middle of them. Ours had a little dohickey that let you stack a few extra records on top of the post, and when the first album finished playing the arm from the record player would slide to the center of the album and you would hear a couple second of static whoosh whoosh and then it would swing back to its home position, the next album would drop down on top of the first album, and the arm would swing back to start playing album number two.

Static. Whoosh. Then beautiful music in high fidelity stereo, pulsing through the giant speakers on both sides of the glorious wooden monstrosity that also housed an AM radio receiver, and a cut out for the album collection.

They say a person’s favorite music is the music that was popular when they were in high school. That would be true in my case. 1970’s rock and pop.

But a close second would be the music Mom and Dad played on the hi-fi when I was 6, 7, 8, 9.

It’s not the just the songs, though they are great. It’s more.

Orbison’s “Crying,” Patsy Cline’s “Crazy,” Eddy Arnold’s “Make the World Go Away” — I’m not just hearing melodies. I’m reliving how life felt then… the car rides, the smell of dinner cooking, my parents playing cards with their friends, falling asleep on the sofa, and so much more.

The music fidelity it better today.

The hi-fi has been replaced by a bazillion other small, digital, music sources.

But music is way more than fidelity and music delivery.

Those songs had soul. Emotion.

I wonder if Patsy Cline and Roy Orbison would make it if they were trying to write and record their songs today.

And I wonder if a person who is 8 years old today will be remembering the music and artists they’re hearing in a visceral and meaningful way 60 years from now.

Doubt it.