A chronology of song

From day one to day 9,782, these are the songs that meant something and why. I've never claimed to have great taste in music, but I will say that when a song hits me, it retains effect upon replay.

"Human Nature" - Michael Jackson
On Easter morning of 1983, I woke up to find an Easter basket with one of the most iconic images of my childhood: Michael Jackon's "Thriller" LP. Though the album had been rocking the charts for almost a year, I was just beginning to develop a love for cheesy pop music. I couldn't quite handle the title track or its accompanying video, so I repeatedly set the needle of my Fisher Price record player to "Human Nature," a far more gentle song. I had no idea what it was about, but I knew it didn't scare me.

"Ruby Tuesday" - The Rolling Stones
In January of 1987, while the family was all over the map (Dad, Marni and in I Florida for Cheerleading Nationals; Mom and Ashley in Colorado for her ski trip), my grandfather died of a heart attack. My parents had been fighting about money, Marni was leaving for college soon, and Ashley was having the headaches that would eventually lead to a brain tumor. Though my parents tried to keep all of the above from affecting me, I'd been raised in an environment where we deeply felt one another's joy, as well as one another's pain.

We met at the airport and drove to Tulsa at one in the morning. I fell asleep in the backseat between both of my sisters. I woke up to this song upon hearing the opening lyric, "She would never sleep where she came from." I cried silently while my family thought I was still asleep. I didn't want anything to happen to us and I was scared that everything was about to change.

"El Shaddai" - Amy Grant
My music teacher made Ashley and me sing this song in our school's first talent show when I was in fifth grade. My mom, ever neurotic but always nurturing, told me she wanted me to sing it at her funeral. I cried for hours because I thought she was trying to tell me she was dying. I suppose it was at that age that I realized I was slightly hyper-sensitive.

Though I felt like a giant dork in front of my peers, what with my buck teeth and ill-advised pink button-down Polo shirt (no one wonder I was teased), I was proud to be next to my sister, who'd had her lion's share of life's disappointments.

And don't kid yourselves. I was also thrilled to be in the spotlight, something that didn't bode well for my parents hopes of me pursuing a stable career.

"Head Over Heels" - Tears for Fears
The pangs of unrequited love can sting, particularly during the high school years. I was the first to make people laugh and the last to get a date. So while my contemporaries were soothing their pain with Matchbox 20 and God knows what else, I was listening to this song over and over. It simultaneously soothed and added to my sorrow.

Years later, while watching Donnie Darko at the Ragtag in Missouri, I discovered that others felt the same way about this song. It was truly a beautiful, vindicating moment.

"Don't Dream It's Over" - Crowded House
My appreciation of and devotion to music was fairly superfluous until my senior year of high school. I listened to a lot of U2 and Beatles like all the other private school rebels. On the morning of my last day of school, as I was resigned to leave school and Oklahoma City behind forever, my radio alarm woke me up with this song. That's when I had my lightbulb moment. My life was about to change. Fortunately it did, as did my appreciation of and devotion to music.

"Homeward Bound" - Simon & Garfunkel
Perhaps I shouldn't have been so quick to get away from Oklahoma. Though I loved my freshman year of college, I couldn't wait until Thanksgiving break, a full week to enjoy the heartland. I couldn't sleep, nor could my good friend and fellow Okie Lyndsay, so we left at four in the morning. Our road trips usually consisted of animal carcusses and Simon and Garfunkel. This song in particular made those small towns in Missouri and Oklahoma more tolerable as my Honda logged the miles.

"Suite: Judy Blue Eyes" - Crosby Stills and Nash
By the end of my freshman year I'd realized I didn't quite fit in Columbia. I didn't want to upset my parents, so I didn't tell them I was unhappy with my college choice. They'd made many sacrifices and given me many outs before they signed their first tuition check. So with my newly realized dream of moving to LA and becoming a star, I told myself that Hollywood and its bells and whistles would be my reward for three more years in Missouri.

This song, especially at the time and particularly in the second part of the suite, symbolized the freedom I'd one day feel to pursue my dreams.

"I've got an answer. I'm going to fly away. What have I got to lose?"

"Dead Already"/"Any Other Name" - Thomas Newman
I'm just now realizing that film critics are correct in calling American Beauty one of the most overrated films to ever win Best Picture. At the time, the film seemed so deep and meaningful because I was fundamentally unhappy. My young cousin had just been killed in a motorcycle accident, I'd been on the receiving end of unrequited love and I was alienated in my living situation. Like so many people who misunderstood the movie, I too felt I was Lester Burnham.

The first song immediately sends me back to those beautiful Columbia fall days. I picture driving down Providence, resenting myself for staying at Mizzou and thinking only of California as a source of happiness. The latter song is a mainstay for any night I decide to stay in, be mopey and self-indulgent, and drink in silence. And to quote my mom, it's what I want played at my funeral.

"Eclipse" - Pink Floyd
The grand lesson I learned toward the end of my senior year was a simple one. If you waste time dwelling solely on the promise of the future, you completely miss the present. I'd been groomed for greatness in high school, and so after four years of blending in and isolating myself from those around me, I felt like a complete failure. Soon I'd became a much gentler and happier person, thanks mostly to the birth of my nephew. But for the time being, I was content with my incense and "Dark Side of the Moon." I would listen to the closing track on repeat for almost an hour before going to sleep each night.

"Danny's Song" - Loggins & Messina
You could make the argument that I'd care as much for Jack, my nephew, if he'd been born any other child. You would only make that argument if you didn't know Jack. Even before he could walk, I knew that he was nothing short of a miracle. And though this song usually reflects a father's joy, it worked equally as well for expressing the euphoria of a first-time uncle.

"Mony Mony" - Billy Idol
The morning I booked my Lexus commercial and got my SAG card was a great cap to my first year in LA. I had the day off, and it was characteristically blue-skyed and cloudless. So I got in my car and blasted Billy Idol. I sped down Mulholland Drive at death's pace and smiled upon the seeming smallness of Hollywood. I finally felt like I'd put my foot in the door as opposed to being another outsider.

"Bittersweet Symphony" - The Verve
Nothing in my life has ever been as humiliating and degrading as the morning I got fired from the sports club. I was asked to turn in my nametag, parking badge and membership card without so much as a "Thank you for two years of hard work." I was then escorted out of the club by my supervisor while an audience of peers and members watched in confusion.

Once I'd gotten over the shock, and after I'd stopped blabbering long enough to tell my dad the whole story, I drove home in silence. I parked my car, flipped through my CD wallet, and sat as this song played. Very dramatic, very over-the-top, yet at that moment very fitting.
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Though movies have historically been my forte in terms of knowledge, taste and appreciation, the power of music has never been lost on me. Perhaps my taste is explained by the fact that, unlike film, music is so intensely personal to me. My family, my friends, my shining moments and fleeting tragedies are all accompanied by a tune. I can't imagine a meaningful moment in life without an accompanying song.