Saturday, January 1, 2011

Unto the Gates of Hell

"I went to Staten Island, Sharon
to buy myself a mandolin...
"

Nineteen years old, driving my VW Bug over the Grapevine Interchange into LA with nothing but an AM radio and no reception, I entertained myself by singing Joni Mitchell's album Hejira from start to finish because, of course, I knew all the words. Winding from Buttonwillow and Ventura with the window down and my hair blowing, singing at the top of my lungs. Her Song for Sharon was a touchstone. Descending into the smog, I thought I might be Joni, but it turns out I'm Sharon instead, with my husband and my home. I sang for my friends and my family last night, doing exactly what I wanted to be doing with the people I wanted to be doing it with and it was sweet.

"Sharon you've got a husband
And a family and a farm
I've got the apple of temptation
And a diamond snake around my arm
But you still have your music
And I've still got my eyes on the land and the sky
You sing for your friends and your family
I'll walk green pastures by and by.
"

What Joni doesn't seem to realize is that Sharon longs for the diamond snake as much as Joni longs for the family and the farm. Every life is a series of compromises, accommodations. Reality is a bitch, man. I was so certain of who I was and what I wanted when I was 19 years old, but you can't always get what you want, can you? You work with what you're given, make the most of your opportunities. Making choices inevitably narrows the horizon, eliminates options, but the alternative is to become paralyzed, impotent, to do nothing.

So, we make our choices - what do we carry with us? What do we leave behind? Because, it's inevitable: some things must be left behind. But, some things endure. My family, my community, my music; this is what endures. This is what I carry with me unto the gates of hell.

No comments: