We all have songs that instantly connect us to a time and place. The funny thing is, we can’t choose them; circumstances do.
One of the most potent for me is Gino Vanelli’s Wild Horses. Every time its thrumming, insistent intro comes on the radio (yes, I still listen to the radio) I’m taken back to a very specific moment in time.
It was mid-summer, 1985. I was living in Vancouver, working in TV. Not long before, I had bought my first house and welcomed my first child into the world. Life was full of new and unfamiliar sources of stress.
My younger brother (who lived in Ontario) was between jobs at the time, and took advantage of the situation to make a trip west to visit family and friends. He came to stay for a few days and help with some home renovations (which was, like parenthood, a foreign country to me back then).
At the time, our youngest brother was living in Edmonton, and his birthday was nigh.
Hey, said younger brother, why don’t we drive up there and surprise him on his birthday. It was a perfectly feasible suggestion – Edmonton was a mere day’s drive away – but I hedged. I had obligations now. I couldn’t just ‘hit the road’ on a whim.
Nonsense, said my wife. You have holiday time, work is slow, and I’m fine with the baby. Go.
So I did.
Bro & I packed the car with essential provisions (including a few cases of Kokanee, a west coast staple that was at the time unavailable in Alberta and therefore much coveted) and hit the highway.
As we drove across BC in that picture perfect summer’s day, it seemed that song – Wild Horses – came on the radio every 15 minutes. Even as we moved east, changing stations as we went, the song followed us every mile of the way. Its loose, carefree spirit became the perfect theme song for our little adventure.
The visit was a huge success. We three brothers ate, drank and partied prodigiously for three days. It helped that it was high summer, that the weather was glorious, that we all felt on a bit of holiday from real world responsibilities. But we never had a better time together, or were closer, than for that brief spell.
At the end of it, we parted – exhausted – and went on home, brimming with hangovers, great memories and genuine affection.
That was thirty plus years ago. Since then, things have changed. Marriages have ended, and new ones begun. Parents have died. Some friends, too. Fortunes have waxed and waned; some stars have risen, others fallen. Personalities have shifted, and relationships changed.
I have written before about the dominant regret of my generation: namely that our parents had died with things left unsaid between us. There is surely a chapter to be written about estrangement as well. I’ve heard of people severing ties with loved ones, of not speaking to parents or siblings for years and years – and could never quite understand how such a thing could come to pass.
Now I do.
As I enter my sunset years, I doubt – I know – we three will never come together in such brotherhood again. And while some us rewrite the past, I prefer to savour it and the pleasures we once took in each other’s company. Every time I hear the song, that is what comes back to me.
But these days? Wild horses could not drag us together.