Memories are malleable. Trust me… until I find the articles I was going to cite.

I’ve been thinking about memories and remembering. Here’s a funny story:

A friend was bragging about a memory course he had taken. He went on and on about how much it had improved his recollection and how easy it was to learn. So I asked him what the name of the course is. He paused, stared off into space a moment, and said, “What’s the name of that red flower that lovers give each other?”

“Um, a rose?” I prompted.

“Yeah, that’s it,” he said. Then he called to his wife, “Rose, what’s the name of that memory course we took”?

Ba-DUM-bum

And so with Rose on my mind I looked back at the Ding-a-Ling post. Chuck Berry’s song was banned in some places because of the suggestive lyrics. Considering how conservative the area is where I grew up, I’m a little surprised it made it on the airwaves there. (And I’m sure my Mom was thrilled when my younger brother bought the 45. Actual records being another thing that is missing from the mindset of current students which ties this post to yesterday’s. Everything connects somehow….) But there are lots of suggestive lyrics (and more often recently, really explicit lyrics). One of my favorite suggestive songs is Jackson Browne’s Rosie.

She was standing at the load-in
When the trucks rolled up
She was sniffing all around
Like a half grown female pup
She wasn’t hard to talk to
Looked like she had nowhere to go
So I gave her my pass
So she could get in and see the show

Well I sat her down right next to me
And I got her a beer
While I mixed that sound on stage
So the band could hear
The more I watched her watch them play
The less I could think of to say
And when they walked off stage
The drummer swept that girl away

But Rosie you’re all right — you wear my ring
When you hold me tight — Rosie that’s my thing
When you turn out the light — I’ve got to hand it to me
Looks like it’s me and you again tonight Rosie

Well I guess I might have known from the start
She’d come for a star
Might have told my imagination not to run too far
Of all the times that I’ve been burned
By now you’d think I’d have learned
That it’s who you look like
Not who you are

But Rosie you’re all right — you wear my ring
When you hold me tight — Rosie that’s my thing
When you turn out the light — I’ve got to hand it to me
Looks like it’s me and you again tonight Rosie

Hmm, “It’s who you look like, not who you are.” I lose out on both counts. Wait, that’s not where I was going with this post. Self-gratification, not self-deprecation, right? Where was I going with this? I don’t remember….

Posted by Tim