Another catalyst was the meeting of a friend from ninth grade, Anne, who I had not seen for thirty six years. Inevitably the discussion led to where we first met each other and she said: "I met you when you lived on 12th Avenue." Surprised, I stated: "12th Avenue?—I never lived on 12th Avenue . . . " She replied: "Yes you did, don't you remember? Your father rented that house for a few months when you first came here . . . "
After playing a few notes on the piano and staring at a blank page it hit me again: Where are the words? Dan would probably say: "It's not that hard—write about your life, write about what you know . . . "
So, after working at an audio center for several decades dealing with the survival of our audio heritage and meeting people with unusual recall the idea arrived: perhaps I could write about our "real" memories and our "captured" memories. The resulting composition, Life Record, is a song that explores our lives, our media and what we think we've stored.
Text:
Annie, do you recall wax cylinders,
Or records made on wire,
Or reels of audio?
Where did they go?
What will remain of our life?
Records of our life, when kids,
Went 'round and 'round and very, very fast,
And then moved slower, just as we became adults,
Again slowed down and now
Will they simply disappear?
Remember our first dance?
And following romance?
The day we were married?
The birth of our son whom you carried?
We thought we could keep it almost forever,
And surely we'd never,
Lose part of our mem'ries,
A slice of our lifetime,
So, for all those old things,
What will remain...?
Annie, do you recall our Kodachrome,
Or films on Super eight,
Or early video?
Seems now they're snow.
What will remain of our life?
Movies, when we were young,
We saw on a screen that flickered black and white and
Soon we had sound and color, just as we became adults,
And now will our early movies
Simply fade to white?
Remember his first sound?
His face on the playground?
The ship that had ferried
Him to distant shores where he's buried?
We thought we could keep it then and forever,
And surely we'd never,
Lose part of our mem'ries,
A slice of our lifetime,
Well, now for each new thing,
What will remain...?
Annie, now you have gone,
And I'm alone,
I'll try to play our tapes,
I'll try our videos,
But, if they don't go,
I'll always remember you.