I have a routine on the weekend when I spend time in my classroom grading. I grab some CDs to listen to as I grade. I pick an album or two, usually an artist I haven’t listened to in awhile. But I always pick two of my mixed CDs. Some of them are titled, like “The 107 Mix”. (Don’t ask how I come up with titles.) But others are not labeled, they sit in their paper sleeve like a musical gift for me to listen to.
Last Sunday I listened to the soundtrack for Reality Bites and the album Vertigo by Billie Myers. I had two mixed CDs. One of them was purple, part of the cool colors line of CDs from Memorex. The other was a plain silver CD with no title. I had a lot of grading to do last weekend. (I actually didn’t get home until 11:30 that night.)
I don’t actually remember when I decided to open the musical gift of the purple mixed CD, but when the first song started, I teared up.
When I worked at Centura I had a group of colleagues that loved sharing music with each other. We even made our “Top 10 Songs of All Time” mixed CDs that we shared with each other. Even now, I will snap a picture of the car radio when one of their songs is playing and text it to them.
The purple CD was not a top ten CD (those were in the slim plastic case and had an insert with the song title and artist listed). This CD was a mix of blues music Mr. Monter had made just for me. This was also part of the friendship in the group. Making CD mixes we thought someone would like.
The opening notes of B.B. King’s “All Over Again” hit me with a wave of joy and sadness. Mr. Monter was my principal at Centura. He passed away over 10 years ago. Yes, I have blogged about Mr. Monter before. I miss him.
But I have a purple CD with a range of blues music that he made for me. OK, I have a number of mixed CDs, but I listened to this one as I graded essays last Sunday. I thought about our golf outings. I thought about my other friends. I thought about how life gives us incredible moments. I thought about how important it was to have a physical artifact of our friendship. (Yes, I got grading done.)
Maybe I am just getting old, but lately I’ve found myself stepping away from the digital aspects of my life. Some people may have noticed on X, I don’t know. But there is magic in the physical world that I can not experience in the digital world. Yes, a song on Spotify can bring back memories, but to be surprised and hold a physical representation of a friendship brings a depth of joy I can feel in my hands and my heart. There is nothing artificial in that moment. Nothing temporary or forgotten after scrolling.
By the way, I wrote a title for the purple CD on the sleeve, “Remembering a Friend”.
It is all Connected 