It was this same sense of wonder for the past that took possession of Lisa, Italo, John, and me one evening after all our children were finally in bed. The four of us had become fast friends during our newlywed years. As the children began to arrive, we committed ourselves to staying close, thus ensuring that, to this day, the kids think of themselves as cousins. On this one evening, after a wonderful shared meal, and already several bottles of wine, we tucked the children in and collapsed together on the living room floor with yet another bottle of wine freshly uncorked.
Italo casually began to thumb through our collection of old LPs that had long been gathering dust since the advent of the CD. He selected Van Morrison’s Moondance and began reading the liner notes. John hopped up and opened the credenza that held all our stereo components and, just like that, we were looking out the back window into the music of our past.
We went deep into the cuts, placing the needle ever so delicately into the groove to play our favorites, and then telling one another the stories that gave each of these songs such personal meaning. We laughed and played songs into the wee hours. The shared experience went as deep as the cuts.
In the way back, we saw one another as more than the adults we had become, we saw that, like our children, we were as close as cousins through the nostalgia we had for the same music. And though it’s fun to relive the past, friendship like this actually always stays in the front seat, looking ahead.
Copyright DJ Anderson, 2017
