There is a light...

Whenever I hear the Smiths song, "There is a light and it never goes out" I immediately think of Judy Pelot. And right now at 2 am as I started writing this, I'm paying homage with my kitchen light being lit as a beacon several stories up in a downtown condo in the city.

I think about Judy when I hear this song not in reference to the thoughts of what appears to be suicidal desires on the part of it's singer / author Morrissey, but more for the closeness he felt for the person he refers to in the song's lyrics. The odd thing is that I remember this correlation while listening to that song when Judy was still alive. I remember sitting in my friend's home when visiting St. Louis, listening to Smiths albums like it was yesterday. There was a feeling of bliss that just keeps getting more and more powerful in memory as the dredges of life and maturity's worry filled nights creep in along with the years. Thinking about the recession, employment stability, mortgage, life costs for an extended family yield to a feeling of a happier time when thoughts were not as crowded. When thoughts were not as quick to make way from the next necessary concentrated effort to stay on top of things. Yet as the energy of that blissful time gains size and strength, it floats away into an abyss that feels like it could be in a space horror film with no music track.

The lyrics of this song say,

"Take me home tonight

Where there's music and there's people
Who are young and alive
Driving in your car
I never never want to go home
Because I haven't got one anymore."

...

"And if a double-decker bus
Crashes in to us
To die by your side
Is such a heavenly way to die
And if a ten ton truck
Kills the both of us
To die by your side
Well the pleasure, the privilege is mine."

I related so much to the opening statement. There was a time were the people around me were "young and alive" in the sense that there was much less of a urgency to be cautious, deliberate and responsible. But couple that with a like mind, a person just as eager to share in whatever experiences are heading your way and the state of consciousness reaches a level that is borderline hypnotic. I shared that with Judy and another friend from St. Louis. We'll call him Craig. He and I aren't friends anymore and I am just recently starting to regret that. I guess I need to extend an open hand of friendship, again. He even lives in the same city I do. Imagine that. He hates nostalgia though. I am nostalgia incarnate. You've no doubt heard of the show "Hoarders" on TLC, well I consider myself a mental hoarder sometimes. Lots of memories I refuse to let go. Lots of what would seem insignificant story lines, yet to me, they are stitched into my being. It was a formative time in my life and I have anchored a lot of what I am today based of off what happened then.

I've lived in a couple of cities growing up. St. Louis is just etched into my mind as place that had a very special meaning for me. It's where my family actually got together and celebrated life with all the cousins and aunts and uncles... It's the place I'd like to see again some day. if only to visit some of the places I used to know. I know nothing stays the same, everything changes... but it's not wrong for someone to see where they came from.

The point I was trying to reach about the song isn't really manifesting itself in these lines as I would like it to. Clearly there are some thoughts about the car. The car accident, being in the car traveling to some adventure with Judy while visiting her in St. Louis. There is more to it though. Whatever it was, it's far away now because that time, that place, that state of mind is a distant memory. That instant in time is floating out there somewhere with a label that says, "This limited time offer has expired."

I can only see that knowing Judy and spending fleeting moments that seemed like they were the reason why the world was created, can have such a endearing impact on someone else so many years later.