7 Happy Poems to Welcome Spring

Spring!

I don’t care what the thermometer says. I don’t care how much snow is in the forecast. There is baseball being played somewhere.

I’m declaring spring!

And is there a better way to celebrate spring than reading some high school poetry? I think not. Poetry in general can be kind of morose, grim, and down right depressing. That’s not what we need right now.

We need happy, inspiring poetry that makes us think warmer and better days are ahead. And guess what? They are.

Here Comes the Sun
 

While I love The Beatles version of this song, I may love this live version performed by Richie Havens. I’ve been playing this song frequently since his death in 2013, so it was an easy decision to make on which one would be the soundtrack to this blog post.

Havens sings with an earnestness and hopefulness that is infectious. Here’s hoping it gets the warmer sun here a little faster.

little one
  

for Elizabeth

Elizabeth and I at S'onk Patrick's wedding

Summer winds brought
you into this big world, little one,
and you became our big angel.

You quickly captured big hearts,
dazzling with your big wondering eyes
and big open mouth smiles.

You were an instant big celebrity,
the center of the big stage, just like mommy,
even though you looked like your big daddy.

Six months into your little stay,
you face a big fight, little one,
more than just a big tummy ache.

It’s too soon, I know,
but you have to be a big girl now,
little one.

Your big friends and big s’onks
are saying big prayers,
so fear not little one, you’re not alone.

You have big life to live
and big love to give, little one;
this big world needs your big dreams and big hopes.

Winter winds are not here to stay,
but your big smiles and big laughs are, little one,
so weather the big storm and we’ll keep you safe and sound.

Saturday Morning With Dad

Raking the backyard with Pops

Back and forth does the rusty blade sway,

sweeping the rest of
the tall grass away.

The mower strays behind me,
with good ol’ Dad,
who wants to do nothing more
than run and flee.

We trudge silently along
with the sound of
the mower and the blade
as our only song.

Our muscles begin to fade
and we pause to
stare out on
what has become the Everglades.

After a stout cough
and a little chat,
we bravely set up our plan of attack
to finish it off.  

Milk

Did you drink my milk????

The milk is gone… 

because of me.

The milk you were to pour
on your strawberry covered cereal.

At one point or another,
someone was bound to drink it.

To be totally honest,
I’m not sorry it was me!

An Angel on the Bridge

The angel protecting the next generation

She waits with angelic patience

upon her arched wooden perch,
high above the harmful waters below.

All who proceed along the protected bridge
are helped along by her selfless, caring wings
and her watchful, caring eyes of sapphire.

She diligently prays each day and night
 for her dark-haired prince to come
give her peace of mind and fill her heart with joy.

Her countenance brightens as he appears,
making his way unto her safe haven.
Before her answers are fulfilled at last,
he slips upon the slippery planks
and tumbles towards the menacing waters.

Without a thought of hesitation,
she extends her affectionate wings
and catches his falling form.
She smiles as she lifts him back unto her bridge,
guiding him to her patient heart.

Take Hold of My Heart
 

Written for Judy and Michael on their wedding day January 13th, 2001 

Judy and Michael

From strangers from distant lands
to lovers not so far away,
a new and special love has been brought to life.

The beginning found them faceless on
opposite ends of a computer screen,
seeing each other only in daydreams.

Time wore on and soon friendship grew to love
and those daydream images became realities
as each braved the skies and marveled at the worlds they found.

He came from a world that
had shrugged off the bitter cold of separation,
bringing pieces of a fallen wall and a flag of black, red, and gold.

She came to him from a world
that was filled with power and might,
bringing a flag of red, white, and blue with her love.

Together they braved the dangers of disapproval
and together they conquered the scare of
losing her heart to the indifferent beings of fate.

Today, with a ring and tender kiss
she takes hold of his heart as he takes hold of hers
and a higher power leads them into bliss,
where they’ll stay now and forever more.

Family Man

Pops and I at the Alamo

He looks his best in early morning light,

trying to rub his eye’s awake, barely able to walk straight,
preparing to work all day surrounded by unknown faces.

His shirts come home with stains galore from his toil,
that are added to should mom be making spaghetti
and his eyes look more tired than in that morning light.

He still manages to smile proudly,
now surrounded by those who love him most,
even the dog who isn’t the same when he’s away.

His arms are sore beyond belief from years of labor,
but yet he never declines an invitation to roughhouse,
even when mom tells him to stop before he gets hurt.

He’s always good for a conversation,
even when he has no idea what you’re talking about,
and is always good for a laugh, even if it’s at his own expense.

He waits up patiently late into the night,
so that his son can sweet-talk his girl
and can’t help dropping a line or two of his own, just to show off.

He asks nothing in return for anything he does,
except a kiss from mom and tons of hugs from his boys
and falls asleep easy each night, despite the aches and pains,
knowing that his family loves him just as much as he loves them.

The Mouser
 

Written with Momma Ford and Patrick 

Since I don't have a picture on me of the cat in this poem, here's one of my favorite tree in Madison Square Park!

The little mouser rocks to and fro,
keeping her distance, along with her patience…
waiting…..waiting….till the time is right…..
TO POUNCE!!!

Her tail proudly swayed,
her keen eyes looked for praise and a friendly pat,
as she displayed her catch the day.

Her best views came from the
roof top of master’s domain,
where she watched the cautious movements of her timid prey.
After a sun bath and a little nap,
the bathroom window was her entrance to warmth
and a tired hrmph from master.
She raced him to bed where she slept and
had knitted her way into his heart.

Heavy scratches upon her front door scratching post
announced to all her appetite was back.
Her demands were quickly met,
not before the battle of who’s turn it was.
As quickly as it came, her appetite left her system
and with just two bites of the same ol’ chicken,
away she went to dig her face in a half- eaten ice cream cup.

She choose her quarters carefully at night’s end.
The cool cellar, upon that broken old work bench
in days of summer heat.
A window sill on a rainy spring day,
or the warmth of a car hood on a lonely winter day.
Of course, master’s bed was comfy on any occasion.
Wherever she lied her head to rest,
the little mouser clenched her eyes tightly,
let go a content purr
and feel fast asleep.

When you’re done snapping your fingers, check out: 

• Cafe Rouge: 5 Poems to Enjoy a Drink With at the Hotel Pennsylvania 
• Good Friday: Take 5 Poems to Bed With You This Weekend 
• Birth of the Cool: 3 Poems You Can Rest Your Moon Dreams 
• From the Archives: Summer Poetry 

10 Songs My Parent’s Taught Me to Love

The hardest part of my day is choosing what music I’m going to listen to during the morning commute.

On second thought, the hardest part of my day might be deciding which playlist to turn on when the writing muse demands my fingers start hitting the keyboard.

Did my girlfriend’s living room lip-synch performance put me in the mood for the majesty of Meat Loaf’s “I'll Do Anything for Love?” Or does a gray Friday morning in Boston demand the constrained intensity of Joshua James? Is Alabama Shakes’ “I Ain’t the Same” the perfect song to listen to while plotting out the hell you’re going to make your main character walk through?

These are the questions that try my musical soul on a daily basis.

An enduring love for music has led me to a Springsteenian baptism in the front row at Madison Square Garden, an $11 Miller Lite-fueled epic night of U2 at MetLife Stadium, and my brothers and I across New England to experience Bob Dylan’s 4,356 renditions of Hollis Brown.

But every lifetime musical journey has to start somewhere. I’m blessed to have two parents who exposed me to a wide range of artists that not only produced great music, but also helped defined who my parents were at different stages of their lives. I listened to country music growing up because that’s the genre my mother grew up with. I listened to James Taylor and The Rascals because that’s who was playing when my father was hanging out with friends in high school. Every album, every song, every entertainer meant something to my parents, so they mean something to me.

Here are 10 that they taught me to love forever:

“I Ain’t Gonna Eat Out My Heart Anymore” by The Rascals

The Rascals remind my father of high school. The Rascals remind me of my father. Eddie Brigati, Felix Cavaliere, Gene Cornish, and Dino Danelli formed his first favorite band as a teenager in 1965 and have been a staple in his music collection ever since. He’s fond of telling the story of his friend Peter’s band opening for The Rascals. The band only knew how to play at that point were songs by The Rascals, so they had to learn all new music before the performance.

Play this song loud.

  

“Because You Loved Me” by Celine Dion

If you don’t love Celine Dion, we can’t be friends. She’s awesome and I’m pretty comfortable saying so. Disliking Dion is just un-American and un-Canadian in equal measure. Wesley Morris said it best in a Grantland article recently: “I've always imagined that when Beyoncé's hair is blowing it's Dion's voice powering it.” This particular song is special because it reminds me of the bond I have with my mother. I am on this earth because my mother decided not to murder me all those times she easily could have.

“Shed a Little Light” by James Taylor

Since I included “Something in the Way She Moves” in my 10 Songs That Define Me post, I had to go with a different James Taylor song here. I could have easily picked something else off his first "Greatest Hits" album, but I choose “Shed a Little Light” because the hairs on my arm stand up whenever I hear the first notes of the song. It’s a humbling, inspiring, and purpose-driven arrangement that never fails to motivate me no matter what mood I’m in.

 

“Wouldn’t Have Missed it for the World” by Ronnie Milsap

Sometime in the 1990s, my parents went to see Ronnie Milsap in Cape Cod, Mass. They were in the lobby of their hotel when the man himself walked in surrounded by bodyguards. My mother was able to break out of her catatonic state just long enough to take a picture. My father jokes that he had to keep her on lockdown to prevent her from stalking him that night, but it’s probably truer than she’d admit. Since I used my personal favorite “Lost in the Fifties” in a previous post, I’m including one of her personal favorites.

 

“Aqualung” by Jethro Tull

I remember raking leaves the first time I heard this album. I’m pretty sure my father handed me the cassette tape and said “listen to this right now.” This band also almost led to a reality that wouldn’t have included me and my brothers. I tell the tale in a chapter in my novel (with some creative license regarding some details):

Jethro Tull had replaced Neil Young after Bridgeport. Hawk had no system whatsoever to his CD collection and it had taken Sid a good 10 minutes to find Aqualung. Sid could tell his father lapsed into a memory as soon as the first guitar rift rang out. “You ever see them live,” Sid asked, already knowing the answer. The elder Sanford was just like his father before him with stories. They never got old to him, so that meant that it never got old to everyone else either. “I saw them on tour when this album came out,” his father said smiling. “I went with my roommates Terry Gorman, Tommy Cane, and Bobby Irvin, who we used to call Fuzzy, and a friend of Terry; who had gotten us the tickets. We drove out to Dayton in his beat up Chevy Covair. What a piece of shit this car was; I think Terry was more impressed with the fact that the car made it both ways than he was with the concert.” His father laughed, the image must have been sitting right in front of his face. “It’s weird, I can still picture it to this day,” the elder Sanford said, once again bobbing his head to the song. “Ian Anderson had such a presence on stage. What a concert. It really was something special.” That was the version Sid heard since before he could remember. His father had more tonight, however. “Your mom was really pissed I went,” he said. “We were engaged at the time and she almost called everything off when I left. I had to do some pretty good begging when I got back.” “Are you serious?” Sid asked. “You’re telling me all of us were a Jethro Tull concert away from being nonexistent?” “I hadn’t thought of it like that,” his father said, adjusting in his seat, probably trying to make the feeling comeback in his knee. “But, yeah, that’s pretty much on the money.” Sid let a few moments go by. He knew how deep his love for music went and probably would have done the same thing as his father. Music was one of the things that kept the family close together and a lot of that came from his father. Sid smiled. “Was it worth it?” Sid asked, knowing full well his father would never fall into that trap. The elder Sanford just winked and kept driving.

  

“Blue Clear Sky” by George Straight

There isn’t a bad George Strait song. The man simply can’t make bad music. . I’m pretty sure true love didn’t exist before George Straight sang about it. That being said, “Blue Clear Sky” is my favorite because of its optimistic tone and how it playfully captures the spontaneity of new love.

“Tell Me Why” by Neil Young

I can’t leave Neil Young off this list. As my father says often, “Neil’s the man.” One of the reasons my father loves Young so much is that he can rock out on songs such as “Like a Hurricane,” but also mellow out on tunes like “Silver and Gold” without losing any credibility or magnetism. This song remains his favorite, and I even got to work it into a jewelry blog during my tenure as JCK Magazine’s web editor.

  

“Whenever You Come Around” by Vince Gill

I can’t help but think of this Lewis Black bit whenever I hear Vince Gill:

I swear I’m the sentimental writer I am because of listening to artists like Vince Gill with my mother. These lyrics are perfect and so is this song: “I get weak in the knees; and I lose my breath/Oh I try to speak but the words won't come I'm so scared to death/And when you smile the world turns upside down/ Whenever you come around.”

"Tuesday Afternoon" by The Moody Blues

One of the best Christmas presents I ever bought my father was a Moody Blues’ concert DVD. I’m pretty sure he wore it out. Few things are better in this world than listening to the album “Days of Future Passed” when you’re in the right mood.

“Now That We’re Alone” by Rodney Crowell

I had a hard time choosing between Rodney Crowell, Conway Twitty, and Keith Whitley. I chose the song by Crowell because I listen to it often when I’m writing and it nicely sums up the value I learned from my parents to always be there for people when they need you.

 

Also check out:

• 10 Songs That Define Me

A Look Back: The Life of Daniel F. FordThe Lost Chapters

Last year, I did some investigating into my personal archives and unearthed an autobiography I was assigned to write in the 7th grade. Publishing each chapter and responding to my 14-year-old self allowed me to better understand the man I turned out to be. The last chapter ran in October.

Or so I thought.

Going through some of my grandmother’s belongings, my father discovered a printed copy that I had autographed for her. It featured a cover page, dedication page (my grandfather Stephen), and an acknowledgements page that read, “I truly want to give my sincere thanks to all my family and friend for helping me to get to where I am today.”

The typed manuscript also included three chapters that weren’t apart of the original written pages I had been blogging from. Here at the beginning of a new journey seems like the best time to share them and remember that dreaming big pays off in the end.

Enjoy.

Being My Age

Finally, on to me.

I’m about 4’11’’ and have brownish-blackish hair. I have blue eyes and have a strong academic future. I would describe myself to be an outgoing person who loves a challenge.

Best friends are very important people in my life. They tend to make the obstacles that life throws a little easier to handle. Probably the three friends that I consider best friends would be: Judy Sadowsky (who else?!), Justin Andrews, and Dan Galli. You know why Judy is my best friend, so I won’t bend your ear. Dan Galli and I became friends Jessica Adams on the Green Team dumped both of us (editorial note: I’m sure that won’t bring up any unpleasant memories…). I think these friendships will last because for so long, we’ve been through the good and the bad and somehow always come out on top.

One of my major hobbies is writing stories. You could give me the most boring topic and I could turn it into a world-class novel (editorial note: Try me. I dare you). I also like to read any type of book and I love to play baseball.

What makes me happy is when someone is trying to make a difference in the world. Also, hitting a homerun to clinch a spot in the playoffs. I am also happy when the New York Yankees crush the Boston Red Sox.

 I am like other people my age because I like sports and listen to popular music. I am different from everyone because sometimes my jeans are too tight, I don’t play on a sports team, and I listen to country music. I think this is okay because being different makes life exciting and interesting.

The next person I’m going to talk about is one of the biggest influences in my life. Like I said, it isn’t the first time she’s been mentioned. It is the one and only Judy Sadowsky. She has given me so much advice over the years. Whether it was about girls or anything else, she was there to help me out. If it weren’t for her, I would not want to be a writer. She’s taught me so much in the years I’ve known her. She taught me it doesn’t matter if you’re different, it’s how you’re different. She can turn a game into a better game just by changing one rule. She’s my inspiration to try to make a difference in this world. I truly give her my sincere thanks for helping me through the years, through the good and the bad. Sure, she’s not perfect, but she sure gives perfection a run for its money.

Typical Days From Ages 5–50
 

Age 5 

In the morning, my mom would wake me up. I scurried around getting ready for the up coming school day. I always used to eat Lucky Charms. My mom would have to pick out all the marshmallows before I ate (editorial note: I think it was a specific marshmallow shape, not all of them. I don’t remember which one). Sometimes, my mom and I would play Candy Land. Since I was in the afternoon kindergarten class, I got to play all morning. When the afternoon came, I got into my mom’s car and she drove me to Ivy Drive School. I rushed into the room, which was divided by a moving wall. My teacher, Mrs. Platt, was really nice. I usually played house, drew letters, and did many other things. After we had story time, we had naptime. I hardly ever went to sleep (editorial note: oh, to have those hours back. Damn you 5-year-old Daniel Ford, get some sleep!). I do remember bringing in Superman cupcakes on my 5th birthday. And that’s all I can remember about when I was 5.

3rd and 4th Grade

I had this girlfriend in third grade (editorial note: oh boy). She came to me one day and asked me to marry her. Thinking it was a joke, I said yes. I don’t remember who, but someone made fake invitations and gave them out to everyone. The next day, the art teacher has who her bridesmaid was. I whirled around and asked how she knew. My teacher walked in and said, “We all know.” Needless to say I was humiliated (editorial note: “You're seeing a whole team of psychiatrists, aren't you?”).

In the fourth grade, I transferred to Edgewood Elementary School. The first day of school, I cried my eyes out. I didn’t know anybody there. Once I got used to Edgewood, I was a normal Edgewooder. No matter who thinks Ivy Drive is better than Edgewood, or vice versa, I will always consider both home.

My Age 

At 6:30 a.m., my alarm goes off. I give myself four minutes to stretch and wake up. Then at 6:34 a.m., I get up, shut off my alarm, and get ready for school (editorial note: for this sequence to happen at the same time in present day, my iPhone would have to light my hair on fire). I get dressed and go downstairs to eat. I have a bowl of Honey Nut Cheerios, then head to the bathroom to wash up and brush my teeth. After that I walk my dog Sam. Finally, I leave at 7:30 a.m. to walk to school. After six or seven hours of school, I walk home. I once again have to walk Sam. I then do homework and watch some television. My younger brother gets home after me and eats everything he can get his hands on. When my parents get home, I set the table and we eat. Then I watch television until my 8:30 p.m. bedtime. I brush my teeth and go to sleep. I get up the next morning and do it all again.

The Year 2000 

My alarm will go off at 5:30 a.m., and I will push the button to make it stop. I will get up and go through my old routine. I’ll leave my house at 6:45 a.m. to arrive at Bristol Eastern High School before 7:05. After what seems like centuries of school, I’ll drive to Northeast Middle School and pick up my little brother Pat. He will be 12 by then. If I have money, I will treat him to lunch at McDonald’s (editorial note: I took the bus for four years had no money). We then go home and do our homework. We then watch some television or a movie. I set the table when my parents get home and we eat. I moved my bedtime to 10:30 p.m. and quite enjoy it (editorial note: smash cut to my mother shaking her head). I wake up the next morning and repeat the same pattern again.

Age 50

At 5:30 a.m. I will wake up and do my exercises. I then will eat breakfast, wash up, and head toward my office building in downtown Bristol (editorial note: #dreamhigh). I hope there I will be working on a world-class novel. At noon, I will walk a few feet away and eat at a little delicatessen for a good ham sandwich. I’ll go back to my office and work a few more hours, then go home to my loving wife, and have myself a good home cooked dinner that she made (editorial note: you sexist bastard!). I will do my exercises and then watch some more television until I feel like going to bed. I get up in the morning and repeat.

(Editorial note: For those of you who haven’t lost consciousness, the moral of these, ahem, dry rundowns is that I expected to have a life writing, eating, and watching television. Nailed it).

The Future 
 

This chapter is going to tell you a little about what my future is going to look like. I plan on a bright future with plenty of opportunities.

For starters, I would love to live in Maine. Probably not in a very populated city, but close to one. I love being near mountains and plains. Maine has both, plus more. I love the climate. It is just right in the summer and snowy in the winter. Snow in Maine is plentiful, and since I plan to own a snowmobile, it will be perfect.

As my occupation, I envision myself as either a writer or a pilot. I would love to soar above the clouds like a bird, but would also like to be working at home on my novel. My mind is set on being a writer, but would love to get my pilot’s license so I could do some flying in my spare time (editorial note: that sound you’re hearing is all my of family and friends cackling over the pilot thing. Give it a week, it’ll die down).

One leisure activity I would do, depending on my career choice, would be flying. I am definitely going to travel. I plan for my senior trip to visit every capital city in the United States (editorial note: WHY DIDN’T YOU DO THIS??). After that I will come home for a couple of years and then travel around the world. I don’t know which countries I will travel to, but I am definitely going to travel.

In the future, I think America will be a strong independent country that will concentrate on its own problems and let other countries solve their own. America will have a stronger legal and government system. America will have a policy that will have an effect on illegal immigrants entering the United States (editorial note: I have no words. At least I didn’t say “the gays.”).

I think I will be a very outgoing adult. I probably won’t have time to have a family until after I travel, but I hope to be a strong, loving father and spouse that my father was to me and my brothers. I will spoil my grandchildren rotten. I will be the kind of guy that would let my neighbor borrow my power tools or watch my kids.

I don’t see many problems in my future (editorial note: you poor, unsuspecting bastard). The only problem I see is getting married. If I choose the wrong person and then have kids, then they will be affected. I don’t want that to happen. So the only way I’ll be able to go about stopping this from happening is to choose the right person early on in life (editorial note: it took awhile, but I found her).

The brightest thing in my future looks to be my pursuit to be a writer. I hope that one day people all over the world will read my books and think they are good. I hope that this autobiography is the first step to accomplishing this dream.

10 Songs That Define Me

I’m approaching 15,000 songs in my iTunes music collection.

I’m not trying to show off. I have a genuine love of music that compels me to collect as many different songs and albums in every conceivable genre as humanly possible.

After putting myself in a contemplative mood by consuming a rather full glass of Oban single malt scotch one night last week, I tried to choose the 10 songs in my entire library that defined who I am.

Let’s just say that process didn’t take an evening. It was the worst kind of torture, the self-inflicted kind. My heart ached for the songs I had to eliminate from the list in order to get to the musical heart of my being.

Of course it was worth it, not only because it gave me an excuse to listen to some righteous, inspiring, rocking, soul affirming, get-up-off-your-ass-and-fucking-loosen-up-your-damn-hips tunes, but also because I got to reminisce about why these songs became so essential to my life.
  
”String of Pearls” and “In the Mood”

Let’s travel back to the 1940s for a moment.

The world is at war and one newly wedded bride from Baldwin, N.Y.,  is waiting for her husband to come back to her in New York City. She distracts herself by hotel bar hoping around the city, enjoying a couple of stiff manhattans, or dining with her father-in-law who people assumed was her sugar daddy. “String of Pearls” and “In the Mood” by the Glenn Miller Orchestra provides the soundtrack to many of those nights.

Lucky for me, Grandpa Ford would come back from World War II—a few pounds heavier thanks to devouring any C-ration other soldiers refused to eat—and be married to my grandmother for 54 years.

My grandmother loved when my high school jazz band performed these two tunes because it reminded her of a time when she was young, in love, and in New York City awaiting for her soul mate to return all at the same time. I couldn’t in good conscience choose just one. Here’s hoping she joins me in spirit for a drink in Manhattan sometime soon.

“Lost in the Fifties”

When I was a teenager, I compiled my favorite songs on cassette tapes. I’ll pause briefly for the youngun’s to Google what a cassette tape is.

Welcome back. Ronnie Milsap is one of the first country artists I remember following religiously as a kid. “Lost in the Fifties” is the first song on Volume 1 of Daniel Ford’s Favorite Songs Anthology (there were 20 volumes in total).

Listening to Milsap today reminds me of running errands with my mother on the weekends, having family dance parties in the living room, and not knowing enough about the world to care about anything else but having fun.

I don’t give my mother enough credit for sparking my love of music. The country singers she turned me on to are still an important part of my collection and I wouldn’t be the same guy without exclusively listening to country music the first 13 years of my life.

Including this song is my way of saying “I love you” and “thank you.”

“Everybody Knows This is Nowhere”

Odds are good that when I get into my father’s car there will be a Neil Young song playing.

Young’s discography has been on nearly every car ride I’ve taken with him, from the time he used to pick me up from elementary school to our reunions at the Waterbury train station. I had to choose something from the legendary “Everybody Knows This is Nowhere” album because it marked my father’s musical birth and is one of the records he remembers wearing out as a teenager.

The album’s title track has comforted me during my darker moments in New York City. It served as a reminder that when I did indeed escape nowhere that someone who loved me would be waiting to pick me up with never-ending guitar solos and cowgirls in the sand.

“Something in the Way She Moves”

When Neil Young isn’t playing in my father’s car, James Taylor probably is.

My father says that his generation would listen to Taylor to “come down” from listening to acts like Jimmy Hendrix. The man hasn’t deviated from his laid-back, melodic style and the world is a much richer place because of it.

Pretty sure my father and I wore out the cassette tape of Taylor’s first greatest hits album. This song in particular is one of our favorites because it sums up perfectly what being in love should be like for a man.

There’s not a bad version of this tune. And I think someone I know will appreciate the “Go Red Sox” shout out at the beginning of this clip.

“Mississippi”

Attending Bob Dylan concerts is what my brothers and I do to bond.

We’ve seen him at a variety of venues across New England and New York in varying states of inebriation. There was the show in Augusta, Maine, where my younger brother bought a slim-fitting women’s concert T-shirt; the one at UMASS where we had front row seats and completely ignored the gaggle of attractive, blond college girls in the second row; and the show in Boston we almost didn’t make because of a handful of tall Guinness pints at the Bell in Hand Tavern.

Since Dylan is hell-bent on trotting out the same playlist every time we see him live together—if I hear “Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll” one more time Bob, I’m charging the stage—my brothers and I will probably never get to hear this song live. This clip will have to do.

“I’ve Got the World on a String”

Listening to Frank Sinatra in high school confirmed in my mind that I was going to be a writer and live in New York City. “I’ve Got the World on a String” is how I thought I’d feel every day waking up in my apartment before I stepped foot in the city I was born to reside in.

Ten years here and it’s exactly how I feel.

“Superstition”

I want to believe this Stevie Wonder song is what my writing process sounds like: energetic, inspired, loose, free flowing, and adventurous.

For those that know me, my process doesn’t sound this beautiful.

I also can’t resist dancing to this song whenever it comes on. I was once at a wedding and everyone had just sat down to enjoy dessert. The DJ decided that it was a good time to play “Superstition.” I alone bolted for the dance floor.

Was I helped by several gin and tonics made with top shelf gin? Sure, but it wouldn’t have changed my reaction in the least. Best part was I remained completely alone on the dance floor. Not even my date made a move to join me.

I didn’t care. And I never will when it comes to this tune.

“She’s the One”

I usually start every half marathon I run with Bruce Springsteen’s “Born to Run,” but “She’s the One” ends up saving me at some point during the race.

I’ll feel my body start to fatigue and thoughts of slowing down will pop into my head when the opening keyboard and guitar riffs start pounding into my ears. My energy level and the belief I can make it to the finish line are re-filled instantly. The line “that thunder in your heart” that leads the second stanza makes my whole being thunder as my sneakers hit the blacktop at a faster pace. This song has a permanent spot on my ever-changing running mix.

Unrelated to running,  I’ll also add that if James Taylor’s “Something in the Way She Moves” sounds like how a man should be in love, than this song sounds like how he should make love.

 

“The Way You Do the Things You Do”

For being alive, young, and in love in New York City all at the same time.