For our 16th anniversary my husband got me a copy of Crystal Gayle's Greatest Hits. More as a joke than anything, because we like to celebrate with the traditional gifts. We like the idea that there's worth in simplicity and not always a need to modernize. Really, who needs crystal for their 3rd anniversary? You're barely off the wedding with its china patterns and gift registries and now more crap to go in the hutch? Blech. Work your way up there, earn it. It's also possible we're a bit old-timey-snobbish and the modern list feels too suburban. We like our old house, on the corner, by the elementary school. And it can be fun to try to find things for Paper and Leather. So the traditional list says 16th is the Crystal year. However, we also have some truly fantastic heirloom dishes, etc. and don't need any new crystal of our own. So I got Crystal Gayle's Greatest Hits. See what he did there? That's not only why I married the fella, but am still married to him, 16 years later.
I am of the opinion that you should never be ashamed of what you read or the music you listen to--the result being an open mind. If you aren't afraid to try new things you won't get stuck in a fundamentalist rut. A Neo-Nazi rut. A New Age rut. Any rut...there are no ruts. Most people who have left their white supremacist past behind credit conversations with and surrounding new people, new material, as the the catalyst. More information is rarely ever the problem. Not enough info? So very often to blame. It's like the quote from Abraham Lincoln (or William Makepeace Thackery, more likely) "Whatever you are, be a good one." It's meant to convey whichever side of the civil war you fight on, be a good soldier, doctor, son, etc. At the end of civil war battles, soldiers from both sides would tend to the dead, sometimes almost all from the other side. Letters tucked in jackets needed to be sent home, often with a quick note from yourself as to where the man was located, a some other kindness. And that couldn't happen until the man was buried, and you could give a good account to their family of how he died. Do good by that man, by his family. And I've come to realize, the more you never stop learning, the better you are. Mark Twain said, "Travel is fatal to prejudice...".* So travel, read, listen. Do. And don't be ashamed of what you are curious about. It will only stifle you.
I loved not only the ingenuity of the outcome of the Crystal Year, but also...why not? Not that many years ago I bought an Eddie Rabbit cassette tape I had to special order, then purchase from one of my bookstore co-workers. ( I do love a rainy night.) I was not afraid. I remember being absolutely in love with Playing with the Queen of Hearts (by Juice Newton) and Why Have You Left The One You Left Me For (by Gayle) as kid. I might have even roller-skated to both, at the roller rink. So, Why Have You was on repeat for about a week. Then I moved on and the disc stayed in the car. I pulled it out again the other day. As it was on repeat this time around, I realized something. I miss this kind of unapologetic woman's voice in country music. With the advent of 80's Country, it became even more a boy's club, despite break-outs like Trisha Yearwood and Martina McBride. (Both kick-ass representatives for women's Voices in their songs btw.) The music has lately been dominated by versions of 'climb on up in my big truck in your cut-off jeans while I drink a beer and then you can dance for me in front my headlights before we strip and skinny dip'.
Are you serious? C'mon fellas. No wonder the USA is full of good ole boys who just don't understand sexual misconduct. Step off y'all.
Gayle, on the other hand owns herself. That's the kind of woman I want in country music. That's the kind of woman I want in any music.
First she runs through the litany of questions that have been on her mind since he left and why he might be back: Was the other woman not what you dreamed she'd be? Do you finally realize I'm better? Did she hear the slamming door too, like I did? Basically running him through the gauntlet all while he stands on the stoop. She hasn't even let him in. (We can only hope it's raining.)
Then she takes stock of the situation: he's hurting, she can see that; but she can't tell if it's just for show, a pitiable pout for effect; she wants to have him back but only if it's for real--for good--this time.
And then we get to the line that made me take notice:
Ok, come on in. I'll be your lover, you be my friend.
And yeah, maybe he's playing the same games, but she accepts that these are the terms this time around and doesn't struggle with the choice. At the very worst, you're making sweet talk just to get a foot in the door, but you know what? This time I know all about how you operate. Ok, fine, cross the threshold. I recognize the terms and I accept. I'll take you as my lover knowing I am nothing more than a friend to you.
The only chink in this feminism is when she says she won't ask again...and then does. But I chalk it up to the catchy refrain. Habits can be hard to break. Why not back it up with a staple, snappy, a'Capella clapping version of the Ask, one more time.
It's a quick song, there aren't may lyrics, but what's there is an acceptance of oneself--faults and follies--and desires. An un-shying-away from oneself. I can appreciate that.
* Full quote: "Travel is fatal to prejudice...". , bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.
