A River

I could skate away on

As soon as the flakes fall here in Wisconsin, almost on autopilot, I find myself reaching for the album Blue by Joni Mitchell.

I’m no musical connoisseur; I have no idea what I’m supposed to listen to or not, but I absolutely agree that this album is one of the greatest of all time. I wonder, though, why in the world this particular album has become so important to me.

I’m always jealous of people who “know their stuff.” I have friends who can talk for hours about the literary greats, or some who could quote every cult classic movie in the past 40 years, some who know the names of all the great artists and sculptors. It makes me feel inferior, if I’m honest, not cultured enough, even.

I’ve written before that music and reading and writing made up my childhood. Not to be dramatic, but I spent a lot of time in my room, avoiding the chaos and anger that hovered outside my bedroom door. My walkman was fed battery after battery, blank cassettes recording what I needed on the weekly top 40. And then, of course, came CDs, when I could have a little more say in what I owned and what I fed my mind.

Garth Brooks (WORE those tapes out singing about riding a bull for 7 seconds)

Phantom of the Opera (Christine Daee was me and I was her - I sure exaggerated my vocal range as well)

Sublime (12-year-old white girl from a small town proclaiming I would “pop a cop in Sancho)

Kenny G (yes, haha, I know, but I was a saxophone player)

I didn’t really give a lot of thought about what I was “supposed” to be listening to. I turned to Ska in the 90s, went through a swing dancing phase with everyone else, and randomly fell in love with this album called Painted Desert Serenade by Joshua Kadison. I still listen to that sometimes — still unsure about how I even stumbled across him.

But with the intention of things like Apple Music, I began to look up lists of the greatest albums of all time or whatever, and try them out. But the thing that became so apparent is that it could be what everyone agrees is the single greatest album of the universe, but it might not speak to you. It might be the wrong time — or even the wrong season.

And yet there are certain albums that transcend all of that. Ones I listen to once and never let them go. Blue is like this for me (but so is the soundtrack from the movie Now and Then and the soundtrack to Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat starring Donny Osmond as Joseph, so again, I’m no music snob).

We would be so lost without art. Without the feel of sculpture or the tenderly taken photograph of sunset over the Mississippi River. Without words forming beautiful sentences and movies to make us laugh until our stomachs hurt. Poetry, lyrics, love letters. We need it all.

Today, I felt so melancholy. Work felt heavy, my grief bubbling up. And I thought to myself, “I wish I had a river I could skate away on.”

I hope you have art like this in your life. What are your go-tos?

River

By Joni Mitchell

It’s coming on Christmas

They’re cutting down trees

They’re putting up reindeer

And singing songs of joy and peace

Oh, I wish I had a river

I could skate away on

But it don’t snow here

It stays pretty green

I’m going to make a lot of money

Then I’m going to quit this crazy scene

I wish I had a river

I could skate away on

I wish I had a river so long

I would teach my feet to fly

Oh, I wish I had a river

I could skate away on

I made my baby cry

He tried hard to help me

You know, he put me at ease

And he loved me so naughty

Made me weak in the knees

Oh, I wish I had a river

I could skate away on

I’m so hard to handle

I’m selfish and I’m sad

Now I’ve gone and lost the best baby

That I ever had

Oh, I wish I had a river

I could skate away on

I wish I had a river so long

I would teach my feet to fly

Oh, I wish I had a river

I could skate away on

I made my baby say goodbye

It’s coming on Christmas

They’re cutting down trees

They’re putting up reindeer

Singing songs of joy and peace

I wish I had a river

I could skate away on