Continuing with my rant about soul plumbing:
Let’s look at the song: The Straight and Narrow. I have a soft spot for this song. I think it’s one of my best–and not surprisingly, it’s Country. This song started with a phrase, in fact the first line of the song: Looking back o’er my shoulder, because I thought I heard my name. Simple. Walking down Main Street in Nevada City, with a group of strangers walking behind me, thinking someone I know has recognized me. (This happens to me a fair amount, by the way–especially when I’m feeling lonely. The imagination has a way of taking a sound and shaping it into what you expect–or want, or fear.)
In the song it becomes a metaphor for longing for the past. This phrase led me to another, something a dear friend said to me back (way back) in college. I remember so clearly the time and place. It was in an art lab at George Mason University. My friend Lena was there alone working on a sculpture for class, and I was there visiting her. The reason this moment was so powerful was because it was the first time in my life I had friends–not by default, as in high school (I was thrown in with the other lovers), but because I had chosen them and they had chosen me. Lena was especially dear, because when my father died, she gave my empathy–again, sincerely, without any obligation, in a way that it cut to my core. A hug and some simple words–I wish I could take the pain from you. But it was the first time in my life I had experienced that. Wow.
Back to the classroom. We were talking about relationships, and she spoke that phrase: to be with me, you have to walk the straight and narrow. (And, interestingly, at the time I didn’t associate it with romantic love, but the more biblical meaning, about being true to oneself and to god.) Doug and Lena were my favorite people at school, and I regret not having a relationship with them anymore, except for a Christmas card every few years. They are still together, and have four kids, one of them pretty much an adult. Water under the bridge.
The reason the song is powerful for me–like Someone to Blame–is the emotions it evokes: regret, love–when I so needed love–joy. And simply as part of my intellectual life. Deep questions.
The next line I love in that song, and which I spent a lot of time crafting: Hope’s a glass of water, so much that you can drown; though my duty’s looking forward, sometimes I’d like to drink it down. The hope relates back to looking back o’er my shoulder–hoping it’s someone I know. The hope versus duty refers to the desire to stop walking the straight and narrow–i.e. simply the desire to cheat. There’s a lot in that phrase. Duty (to my wife and family) refers to planning for the future, something I am not very good at. Hope is the opposite of that. It’s living for the present, and hoping the future will just work itself out. (That always works out so well)
I plan to continue the theme, Why I write, in my next post, and talk about some of my other songs that involve deep feelings or questioning.