love, love, love

When I was working on my undergraduate degree oh so long ago (the mid-'90s seem like yesterday, don't they?), my parents encouraged me to travel for a semester. They were thinking overseas. But since I'd never really left my hometown (at that point I'd barely left the neighborhood -- my first apartment was in the Student Ghetto a mere four blocks from my parents' house), I really wanted to go to New York. They protested, but I insisted. So I applied and was accepted to NYU for the summer of 1997.

It was one of the best summers of my life. I lived in a dorm one block from Washington Square Park. Ate amazing meals. Saw phenomenal bands. Bought tons of records. Met interesting people. Most importantly, I walked almost everywhere I went.

I wanted to SEE the city, so I rarely used the subway if it was somewhere I was going for the first time. Copying most New Yorkers, I began to listen to my Walkman (tape version) everywhere I went. One day I got a package from tw with a mix tape inside titled "Pop Side of the Moon." Its cover was a black & white picture of Rockefeller Center (my obsession with the RC Christmas Tree was already in full bloom), and the bands included such indie greats as Small Factory ("So What About Love"), Incredible Force of Junior ("Blue Cheer"), Air Miami ("Airplane Rider"), and Low ("Over the Ocean"). I listened to it so much that the songs on this mix tape are still, to this day, some of my favorite songs.

However, there was one song that I absolutely hated. It was stupid, atonal, and the lyrics made no sense. But since this was a mix tape and not a mix CD, it was a pain in the ass to fast forward through without missing the song after it, which is one of my undeniably favorite songs of all time, Courtney Love's "Uncrushworthy" (Courtney Love being the early 90s band fronted by Lois Maffeo, not the obnoxious Hole singer). So I suffered through it time after time.

But the hated song would just not go away. Unconsciously, it started to grow on me. I began singing it in my head. It popped up in the shower or when I was trying to fall asleep. Then, I found myself fast forwarding to GET to this song. Finally, I began searching for other songs by this artist, amassing a small collection of dubbed tapes and 7 inches. New York City became the place where I began my love affair with what would become my favorite band of all time, the Mountain Goats.

The stupid, atonal song with the senseless lyrics? "The Monkey Song"

a tree grows for h

A brave friend of mine encouraged me to write a bit more about what I've been thinking lately. Many of you know I lost a student in a head-on collision in the spring (which is mainly why I stopped blogging so much -- I had to internalize her death and who can really understand the death of a nine year old?) I grieved with my class, went to the viewing but not the funeral (note: never go to the open-casket viewing of a child), and tried to move on. She was always in the back burner of my mind, which is where I put things when I can't figure them out right away.

The last week of school we planted a tree in her honor -- a magnolia. It was special to her family, and all of them came. Her wonderful mother, her aunt and grandmother, her sister paralyzed from the waist down in the crash that took H's life, her father, and her step-mother -- the one who was driving the car. I felt so especially sorry for her since how can you get over the could have, would have, should have scenarios that must pass through your mind every day after an event so horrific? At least I felt sorry for her until last week, when I found out this woman was high on cocaine, pot, and alcohol at the time of the accident. I just couldn't believe it -- or seem to get over it. How do you do that to a child, much less your children? The thought keeps me awake at night, especially as Tim and I contemplate starting our own family.

I was pulling sweaters out of a drawer tonight trying to find something to wear for school tomorrow. I touched a sleeveless lavender shell, and as I pulled it out I remembered wearing it to H's wake. Every day when I leave school I see the tree we planted for H. I think about her and her wonderful mother. I can't imagine the idea of losing your child so horrifically and on top of that knowing someone you trusted to watch her was in fact responsible for her death. How do you move on after that?

I lost my grandmother three weeks ago. I watched my mother lose her mother, and it was so difficult. Grandmother was 98 years old and lived a full and prosperous life. But it was still sad and heart breaking to watch my mother grieve. The bond between mother and child is so very strong -- I couldn't help but think of H's mother and their bond. How does one move on after such a tragedy? I'm not sure her death will ever move off my mind's back burner because I'm not sure I will ever fully understand.