I've mentioned it before: my favorite song is Melissa by the Allman Bros.Band. It's one of those songs that I won't hear for a while but then I go through a time where I want to listen to it alot. Like now. I've downloaded Melissa and Ain't Wasting Time No More to my MP3; also a couple of Van Morrison songs. Reflective songs; songs that make me evaluate where I've been and where I'm going. And then, of course, Melissa is not just a great song - it's a complete experience from the first strums of the acoustic guitar...in fact the timing is just slightly off in the opening:
Crossroads, seem to come and go, yeah.
The gypsy flies from coast to coast
Knowing many, loving none,
Bearing sorrow havin' fun,
But back home he'll always run
To sweet Melissa... mmm...
Freight train, each car looks the same, all the same.
And no one knows the Gypsy's name
No one hears his lonely sighs,
There are no blankets where he lies.
In all his deepest dreams the Gypsy flies
with sweet Melissa... mmm...
Again the morning's come,
Again he's on the run,
Sunbeams shining through his hair,
Appearing not to have a care.
Well, pick up your gear and Gypsy roll on, roll on.
Crossroads, will you ever let him go? (Lord, Lord)
Will you hide the dead man's ghost,
Or will he lie, beneath the clay,
or will his spirit float away?
But I know that he won't stay without Melissa.
Yes I know that he won't stay without Melissa.
The slide guitar of the incomparable Dickie Betts (rivaled only by Duane who died before his time); the bluesy voice of Gregg Allman - probably the most soulful-voiced white man of all time; listen to the awesome bass, piano and organ supporting the song. Musically first rate. Lyrically...well that's a different story. 3:51 of perfection. Listen to those bass notes as the song fades away.
Where does this song take you? I know where it takes me...reviewing crossroads of my younger years - I must have taken the right turns because I'm so glad I ended up where I am - always grateful, mostly glad. But Lord there was such a price to pay. And could you have delivered me here to this place in my life without all the wrong turns? Or were they a necessary part of the journey? These last several months - talking with old friends - makes me evaluate. Might things have been different? Where was I going when where I was was not enough? I had no plan. I would put one foot in front of the other and end up here and there - both geographically and spiritually.
I loved the city of Charleston, but not my life there. What an interesting observation - I actually loved everywhere that I lived: here in Maryland, Atlanta, Charleston, Jacksonville, FL, even Columbus, Ohio for the short time that I was there. The history of each of those places, the memories made with friends. I was on quite the adventure but I didn't have the spirit back then. Back then I was restless, in a way that I could not put my finger on. And truth be told, I still can't. I just know that I am no longer longing for moving on. Was that a search for faith that I interpreted as something else? Maybe that's why I no longer feel restless. Or maybe it's being a mother that has planted my feet firmly.
I still wander some... I have packed Maddie up to get away ever since she was tiny. The other day I told her I'd like to take her out of town hiking for her birthday April 2. She laughed and said, "You just want to get away - you haven't gone anywhere since before Christmas!" And she is right. I am feeling itchy!
But back to the song - and the 3 minutes and 51 seconds of perfection that bring tears to my eyes and a deep pain in my heart. Where does it take me this time? It's always a crossroad but not always the same one. This go round (meaning since I downloaded it within the last couple of months), I am thinking of a time at the transition from the late 70's to the early 80's. Some great times with friends sort of centering around a certain farm in Gaithersburg and involving many motorcycle rides to places from the beaches of Delaware to the mountains of western Maryland and West Virginia. The man that lived on that farm was sort of our center - just an ordinarily but special man that we all loved. And we all did love him - not for anything he did, just who he was.
Eat a Peach was a staple then, like Budweiser and jeans, even though it had been out since 1972. We swam in the lake on that farm and hung out all night in the apartment above the barn. We went to see bands and shot pool and attended huge parties in fields with bon fires and people on motorcycles that personally scared me to death! But we were young and invincible and I'll always know that God protected me through many a naive evening. We had so much fun. I had a boyfriend who was tall and so handsome that I was always sure strange women wondered what he was doing with me. I don't believe a black tshirt and a pair of jeans were ever happier than the ones he wore. He certainly made me smile!
We made so many mistakes. Did things we're probably not proud of and probably not rushing to share with our kids. I don't know how it started to end, but I know that I probably began to get restless. I wish I'd known that what I was looking for was not to be found in others. That it was within me. But it was many years and more crossroads before that lesson was learned. Somehow I started to move on and as had become my habit, I kept one foot there while I searched for a place to put my other foot. Once the other foot planted, I moved on for good.
Like I said, I don't know how it started to end, but I remember how it ended. One day, I believe in 1985, I dressed in black and left my new husband at home and drove to Gaithersburg to St. Martin's Catholic Church. Outside dozens of motorcycles lined up; inside hundreds of friends and relatives of the man who lived on the farm. Taken from those he loved at age 28, by cancer, while his young bride was in her eighth month of pregnancy. In the back of the church that day, we all rose and held hands and prayed. And then the motorcycles led the procession to his burial. Later that day, back at the farm, I realized that I had moved my life on and that I was no longer a part of this group. I had left before our center did. And I wondered then why I had turned at the crossroads in the direction I had.
A million years later, I talk to an old and dear friend through email. Dear to me due to history - not because we ever stayed in touch. That handsome young man in the black t-shirt and jeans says that over the years, from time to time he has run into another one from our group, Joe, and asked about me. But all he had known was that I had moved to Florida (I've been back since 95!). And I guess listening to this song again and asking those questions have left me wishing that some things had been done differently. And I remember that back in St. Martin's that day, I felt like I no longer belonged with these people and our friend Joe reached over and took my hand while we prayed.
Crossroads...will you ever let me go?
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