The soundtrack of our lives.

Mine starts back around 1982 as a kid in a station wagon, usually on the way to our sail boat in the Chesapeake, or to our grandparents house in Philadelphia. The songs are either "I've Been Working on the Railroad", or "My Grandfather's Clock". Any rendition of either song transports me back to our Chevy station wagon, full of little kids, with no seat belts or car seats, but plenty of blond hair and smiles. "My Grandfather's Clock" can still give me chills, and it's funny now to think that it's such a sad song. As a kid, I don't think I knew what it was about, except that we said "grandfather" about seven times as we sang, and I loved my grandpa Widtfeldt and I was usually on my way to see him.

Then, if I'm ever walking through a department store and happen to hear in the background a song by Air Supply, I can actually sing along, WORD FOR WORD. Because I spent many a weekend nights in the '90s laying on the floor of Christy Goold's house listening to those songs, dreaming of who I would hope to dance with at the next church dance...Just go listen to the words of "Every Woman in the World" and tell me you can't remember being 14 again.

Or the song, "Feels Like Christmas" by Cyndi Lauper. Do you know it? With it's line "It don't matter if you're rich or poor when love comes knocking at your door." I can't listen to it without smiling and feeing 16 again. Sitting in Nancy's white BMW, driving through the streets of Old Town Pasadena. We probably needed to get bagels at Goldsteins. Or maybe she needed a car wash (she could only do that in Pasadena). Or frequently we needed to hunt for awesome vintage jeans at the Salvation Army. Nothing says being 16 to me, and feeling free like the lyrics, "Every time I see you, every time I'm near you, every time I hear you, I feel happy."

Or how about "Satellite" by the Dave Matthews band? Did you listen to that 65 times in a row like I did, as I drove off to my freshmen year of college with my older sister Sarah, and my mom. As I recall I had about four inches of space to sit in for that 12 hour drive. Every square inch of the mini van was stuffed full of stuff. Clearly essential stuff. We couldn't have left ANY of it behind. Somehow I remember feeling like we were all mad at each other. But really I imagine we loved each other more than anything else. I like to think maybe we were just stressed because moving is a beast, and change is always hard. And I remember my mom saying something to me like "I'd love to trade places with you." And at the time, I couldn't understand what she meant. After all, she already had everything I was at that time dreaming of having. But now, I think I get it. You only leave home once to set out on your own, and it is a magical time. How fitting that I was listening to that song, because wasn't my mom, after all, the satellite around which I was orbiting.

Songs from Innocence Mission and Sunfall Festival remind me of Provo in the fall. I cannot listen to either one without remembering the route I used to walk from my off-campus apartment shared by Liz, up to campus. Those songs still on my Ipod today, just in case I want to remember the years 1995-1999 and how much I loved BYU and the streets of Provo and the people around me.

Smashing Pumpkins remind me of falling in love with Darin. He had every single album, and for some reason I found it to be such a contradiction. He seemed so calm and quiet, and yet their music seemed edgy to me. But if I hear any of those songs, I can see him in glasses, with a baseball cap, Simple shoes, light washed, slightly tapered jeans, and a green hoodie. He had curly dark brown hair and if I could make him smile, his dimple would melt my 19-year old heart, which was certain I was NOT going to let him go.

There are a few years in there where I was sort of over my disc-man and massive stereo, and yet the Ipod had not yet been invented. I don't have a lot of songs for that time. But I sure did listen to countless hours of Rush Limbaugh and Dr. Laura.

But then just in time for my major years of running the Ipod was invented. If I hear "Under Pressure" by David Bowie, I can actually feel the pavement under my feet. I had undertaken training for the Salt Lake City marathon which would be my first marathon. I took my training very seriously, and never left home without a David Bowie tune to give me that extra get-up-and-go.

Or the song California by Phantom Planet, reminds me of running on a treadmill in my parents garage in La Canada. Darin was in the Middle East somewhere, and the words "California here I come, right back where I started from", remind me of the safe haven my parents had created that I could take refuge from single parenthood from by moving back home to. My little sisters were in high school, and it was good to be home again. I would frequently not make it to the treadmill until 10pm at night. Often my dad would be finding his way home sometime right around then too. More nights than not, he would say something to me like "Wow Annee, you have more energy than I could ever imagine". And that simple sentence would give me more energy than I could ever imagine. It's never been easy in my mind to impress my dad, and while I was only running for my sanity (and maybe to be just like my dad), as a separate benefit, I had impressed my dad with my stick-to-it-ness. And that made me feel proud and strong.

Anything by Clap Your Hands Say Yeah, reminds me of running on the Santa Fe trail and falling in love with Colorado. We arrived in Colorado with all of our babies. But we were like little saplings looking for somewhere to place our roots. I feel like that's what we did there. I fell in love with my babies (all four), my home, my friends, the blue skies, and life was so full and blessed. We bloomed and I ran to music.

And this morning after dropping all of my children off at their schools here in Korea, once again I grabbed my Ipod and set off on a run. I wasn't sure that I wanted to run today. I was tired and hungry. But I turned on a song and it transported me somewhere, and suddenly the whole run was one song after another of memories. And I realized how lucky I have been. The songs are just the trigger. When I hear them they help me remember, but mostly the memories are filled with people. And I have so many people to love. So many ties that bind me and define me. So very many people to love.