Broken Wings Indeed
For the third morning in a row, I have woken up with a song playing through my head. This is not unusual for me, I often have these ear worms going on, and they often start my day. What is unusual is that this week it has been the same song each morning and it is a song I do not remember hearing anywhere in the past six days, or six months for that matter. Usually the songs that stick in my craw are the ones that play on my daughter’s radio station making them current, if annoying.
The song that continues to play on an endless loop, and yes, there it is, right there, it keeps going, can you hear it? has today driven me to the internet to find out who sings it, what its name is, and if there is an antidote. I had thought perhaps Richard Marx may have been responsible for this song, I seem to vaguely remember him singing some very generic, sweeping sort of songs with the type of lyrics one associates with high school yearbook quotes. I was mistaken, the song in question is, or was, please tell me this song isn’t still performed live by anyone, recorded by Mr. Mister. In a way, knowing this actually helps me understand a song I have heard often on my daughter’s radio station – the Train song where they query, “ain’t that Mr. Mister on the radio, stereo?” Now at least I can attach this song to the other one when the Train song begins to feast on my brain cells.
In my 5 a.m. research to determine whether or not this song had a significant message for me, perhaps a loved one was trying to contact me from the other side, or I was overlooking something in my life and my subconscious was trying to right things, I looked up the lyrics too. They provide me with little to go on as the lyrics are fairly repetitive and have no significant insights. I am relieved actually, because I believed that most of my deceased loved ones had better taste in music (except you John, your musical taste was pretty bad – I seem to recall your love of Manfred Mann), and my subconscious would be a major disappointment to me if it were using these cliches to wake me up. I would expect show tunes or standards at least for life changing messages, not dated pop tunes.
One thing I did learn in my research is that this song holds great meaning for others. So much so that several people have tattooed lyrics from it on their body parts. Although I might be able to stretch my way into understanding this quote etched onto say, an arm or a shoulder blade, typical places where one might sprout wings, I had trouble understanding the folks who had this inscribed on their feet and under their rib cage. Those would be terrible places for wings, no? Then again, perhaps that is where they had the wings and then the wings broke there, on those spots, so then, yes, it would make sense to put the tattoo there if that were the case. It does make me wonder if I’m still overlooking something, something big, that this song is trying to teach me.
The irony of the line, “learn to live life so free,” is not lost on me completely. What is freedom anyway? Freedom from or freedom for? What would absolute freedom look like? I’m pretty sure it would smell like a pine forest of some sort meeting up with the shoreline of the ocean. For me, freedom would sound like Frank Sinatra’s version of “Summerwind” right about now. Since that isn’t gong to happen, I can only replace the Mr. Mister song with tiny snatches of other things before it consumes me again, I’m going to face this monster head on and watch the video on youtube. Feel free to join me.