Our go-to CD in the car right now is the Beatles’ Revolver.
We started listening to it again because of a recent Mad Men episode, in which Don is looking for a sound (like the Beatles) to accompany an ad, and Megan hands him Revolver and tells him to “start with this one,” referring to “Tomorrow Never Knows.” There’s something about that show that makes songs resonant with meaning in ways they never were before. Don McLean’s “Babylon” stayed in my head for weeks after it graced the credits a couple of years ago (and I heard a paper about it at a conference). Shivers. I’d heard “Tomorrow Never Knows” a million times before, but it was after that episode that I had to listen to it on a loop, hypnotised by a sound that still, 46 years on, sounds like “tomorrow.” In that episode, of course, Don is so very yesterday. He turns it off before the end, and you sense, at that moment, that his prime is over. That Megan is the future. At least that’s what it meant to me. Megan, by the way, is played by my lovely second cousin Jessica Paré, so I get extra excited whenever she’s on screen in my favourite show.
I digress. So the CD played in our car and Owen latched on to “Yellow Submarine.” It’s come to the point that whenever we get into the car, Owen puts in a request: “I want the song called ‘Yellow Subabarine.'” He knows all the words and sings along. It’s a great song for kids and (as he’s discovered via YouTube), has a great (long, psychadelic) “music video” to accompany it.
Anyway, last weekend, we had our friends Claire and Layla over for dinner. After we ate, we tried out our fire pit for the first time and roasted marshmallows. It’s been years and I must say, they taste extra delicious roasted on cedar branches. Also: this is our back yard!
Then a couple mornings later, at breakfast, Owen said that he wanted to write a song like “Yellow Subabarine” when he grew up. And he asked, how could he do that. So Duncan and I suggested that he might need to eat a lot of mushrooms.
“I loooove mushrooms,” cooed Owen.
News to me. I had a hate-hate relationship with mushrooms when I was little. I once had to eat them off the floor as a punishment, and while I do buy them occasionally, they are still not on our regular grocery rotation. Owen’s eaten them twice, maybe.
“You do?” I asked.
“Can we roast mushrooms again when Layla comes over? I want to eat lots and lots of mushrooms and write a song called ‘Yellow Subabarine.'”
I love it how his connections twist us in knots, so that we find no way out but laughter.