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The vagueries of memory
Apr. 8th, 2005 01:59 pmSo I'm going to see Duran Duran in concert tonight (at least I think it's tonight. It's tonight, right?), which is exciting, although I am not a Duranie by any means. Not that I don't like them, but I didn't even know them until pretty recently.
This is strange, because I am very much a musical child of the 80s. I cut my teeth on all the big pop and rock sensations of the decade, so you wouldn't think that a kid who obsessively listened to the radio back then could miss Duran Duran entirely. And I mean entirely. But I could not have named you a single Duran Duran song until the last couple of years.
I used to think that surely I knew their songs, I just didn't know that those were their songs. After all, I'm a little younger than most of my friends who were Duran fans, and pre-pubescent music absorption isn't a precisely catalogued science. So I listened to their greatest hits and -- nothing. Did not even recognize a single song. Okay, maybe "Hungry Like a Wolf," but that's it.
So I'm puzzled as to how exactly I got out of the 80s without hearing a Duran Duran song, and I sort of feel like I should be giving my concert ticket to someone who will appreciate it more. But I'm really looking forward to watching my friends relive their adolescence.
Going even further on the early memories theme--the Pope. Like many people, Catholic and non, I've been watching the funeral preparations for John Paul II with great interest. Partly it's because I have a certain fascination with the rituals of the Church, just because of the great age and weight of faith that comes to bear on occasions like this. And partly it's because one of my very first real memories, probably the first clear one of my life, was of watching the Pope on TV when I was 2.
It never occurred to me until the other day when I saw the exact dates of his papacy on TV, but I'm sure the reason that we were watching was because he had just become Pope. I remember very clearly how peculiar I thought he looked in the white robes, and that I thought the word "Pope" was very funny, like "poop." This is very entertaining when you're two, trust me.
I must have understood something of the religious nature of his position, because not long after that, I remember dreaming that I was looking up at God through the clouds, and he looked like the Pope. I told this dream to my mother (my poor Jewish-Unitarian mother), and she decided that on the bright side, at least dreaming about God might mean I was a spiritual person.
Or something like that. *g*
This is strange, because I am very much a musical child of the 80s. I cut my teeth on all the big pop and rock sensations of the decade, so you wouldn't think that a kid who obsessively listened to the radio back then could miss Duran Duran entirely. And I mean entirely. But I could not have named you a single Duran Duran song until the last couple of years.
I used to think that surely I knew their songs, I just didn't know that those were their songs. After all, I'm a little younger than most of my friends who were Duran fans, and pre-pubescent music absorption isn't a precisely catalogued science. So I listened to their greatest hits and -- nothing. Did not even recognize a single song. Okay, maybe "Hungry Like a Wolf," but that's it.
So I'm puzzled as to how exactly I got out of the 80s without hearing a Duran Duran song, and I sort of feel like I should be giving my concert ticket to someone who will appreciate it more. But I'm really looking forward to watching my friends relive their adolescence.
Going even further on the early memories theme--the Pope. Like many people, Catholic and non, I've been watching the funeral preparations for John Paul II with great interest. Partly it's because I have a certain fascination with the rituals of the Church, just because of the great age and weight of faith that comes to bear on occasions like this. And partly it's because one of my very first real memories, probably the first clear one of my life, was of watching the Pope on TV when I was 2.
It never occurred to me until the other day when I saw the exact dates of his papacy on TV, but I'm sure the reason that we were watching was because he had just become Pope. I remember very clearly how peculiar I thought he looked in the white robes, and that I thought the word "Pope" was very funny, like "poop." This is very entertaining when you're two, trust me.
I must have understood something of the religious nature of his position, because not long after that, I remember dreaming that I was looking up at God through the clouds, and he looked like the Pope. I told this dream to my mother (my poor Jewish-Unitarian mother), and she decided that on the bright side, at least dreaming about God might mean I was a spiritual person.
Or something like that. *g*
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