THE FUTURIST! thought of this song recently. He was going through some old records that were left behind by his grandfather. Songs have so many layers to them as they are audibly played and filtered into our ears and through our brains and pinball their way through our memories. THE FUTURIST! remembers an afternoon long ago when he was a mere THE VERY YOUNG THE FUTURIST! He remembers a surprise visit to his grandfather's home. He entered his modest suburban dwelling and walked through the screened porch, into the front door and then found the house, seemingly, empty. He could hear a faint sound coming from the back room that his grandfather used as den. THE VERY YOUNG THE FUTURIST! continued on in his search to find his grandfather. He knew he was there ... his only means of transport, his sedan automobile, was in the driveway, therefore, his grandfather had to be in the house. He did enter the kitchen area to look through the back door to see if he was in the yard which was a very early neurotic action by THE VERY YOUNG THE FUTURIST! (always double check!) ... no, he was not. But the sound of faint murmuring was evidently audible from the den. He continued on and discovered that the murmuring was actually the soft melancholy sounds of The Sandpipers and this very song.
THE VERY YOUNG THE FUTURIST! pushed open the slightly ajar door to the den and found his grandfather sitting his usual comfortable brown recliner chair. His head was back and he seemed so relaxed. His grandfather was a pipe and cigar smoker (two items that helped, eventually, to lead to his demise) and his pipe was resting in a large glass ashtray next to his afternoon cocktail. The music from emanating from his stereo record player console which he was quite proud of and had cost him a pretty penny. His grandfather did not notice THE VERY YOUNG THE FUTURIST!'s presence in the room at first ... and during those seconds before discovery, THE VERY YOUNG THE FUTURIST! could see his grandfather was crying. Something about this song had evoked sadness from his memory banks or, perhaps, he was weeping about a present problem or worry that this song helped in bringing out his despair. Upon discovery of his grandson's company, he regained his composure and tuned the volume down to a mere purr ... and then became his usual rather emotionless gruff self.
Why this song did whatever it did to manifest such emotion was never explained and never would be, especially from such a stoic grand parental figure. But, as THE FUTURIST! grew older, he could understand how such sounds could provoke the senses to react. Memory can be a warm blanket or it can be a rain shower that leaks through the umbrella of years gone by and soaks the soul with regret.
Listen and remember long after Saturday is gone:
COME SATURDAY MORNING
performed by The Sandpipers