Some Other Beginning's End

You know that one song that you hear at that perfect time when you're younger? The one that was a huge hit on the radio but then fell off the map to gain some nostalgia value? The one that comes back to you five or ten years later, in an entirely different circumstance than the first time, and is STILL perfect?

For me, that song is Semisonic's "Closing Time."

The perfect time as a kid was riding home from family Christmases on the Eastside of Indianapolis or trips to visit the grandparents in South Bend. At least five times, we'd be driving the van on the street approaching our house (Raceway Road), and when we were about three minutes from our driveway the song would pop onto the radio. "Perfect timing," I would think each of those five times, and each time I would lose myself in the sentiment of the song. (And I would pray to God that we didn't arrive at home and stop the radio before the end of the song!) On the rare occasions that I've heard it since, I've fondly recalled the home stretch of Raceway Road and envisioned a journey ending, even if there were no meaningful ending in sight.

This most recent time, there WAS a meaningful ending: a plane ride back to Indy and out of London, a place I confidently call a new home. It happened as I was walking to my last dinner here, listening to my iPod.

Until recently, I haven't paid much attention to the words of songs. As alluded to earlier, I usually basked in the sentiment of a song, manifested in the melody and some parts of the refrain. The verses of popular songs were always lost on me (Beatles songs excepted, of course), and as such I never really dissected any songs. I never truly understood them, either.

But analysis and attention skills inevitably improve once you're in college, and in the last few years I've examined all my favorite songs, if only to apply them more effectively (and correctly!) to my life. It is in this context that I heard "Closing Time" in my earbuds, and I realized that for this moment, this was the. perfect. song.

The sentiment came to me first, of course. How couldn't it? When you feel some way about something as a kid, it's bound to leave a print on you for a while. But, as I'm no longer a kid (at least, I like to think so), I dove deeper into the lyrics.

What did I find first? This gem 39 seconds in: "One last call for alcohol, so finish your whiskey or beer." I had my first substantial alcohol here (champagne at celebrations and church wine don't count), and I had two shots out of a bottle of Jack Daniel's to get rid of before returning to my teetotaler ways until my 21st birthday. This is my last call for four months. Oddly coincidental.

I kept listening, and at 49 seconds I got, "You don't have to go home, but you can't stay here." Again, weirdly appropriate because I have to leave. This one is more complicated, though, because I DO have to go home. Family are expecting me (and I'm expecting to see them!), we're going to Michigan, I have to work, and I'm filming a wedding. In my inability to fully explain that one I set it aside, confident that some other lyric would explain it.

1:21 provided the explanation: "Time for you to go out to the places you will be from." My dinner destination (::darts eyes:: McDonald's) was perfect for this. Even though Ronald and the Golden Arches scream America as loudly as Uncle Sam and baseball, this particular franchise was in London. Get that? LONDON. My third home, after Indy and Bloomington. I can say with pride, "I'm from London." If I can live and work on my own in London, what's gonna stop me from making Madrid, Dublin, or anywhere else in the world a place I will be from?

I pondered on that one for a while, so lyrics passed over me until 1:44: "I hope you have found a friend." Pardon me for being corny (I'm from Indiana, mind you), but I've found more than one. I've found 20 in the student group, seven at the Science Media Centre, and at least three in Dublin. Hope fulfilled, mission accomplished.

I got to the end, and remembering I had missed some lyrics, I started the song again halfway through my walk. I heard, "Open all the doors and let you out into the world." With my time in London, Paris, and Dublin, I can't see how I COULDN'T have let myself out into the world.

"How could this song fit this moment any better?" I thought.

Like this: "Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end." I see myself as a different person now after eight weeks here: more independent and interdependent, more confident (not that I wasn't confident before), and more understanding of nearly everything, including other people. As such, I don't think it unreasonable to eventually see my life as B.L. and A.B., Before London and anno Brittanica.

I've never had a song fit an experience so well. So, along with The Beatles and Frigg,"Closing Time" will always remind me of London. At least the bittersweet end of it. I'm gonna miss this place.

[You'll notice I didn't analyze the refrain. That's because the answer was easy: I didn't want anyone to take me home to Indy, but I knew who would: Delta Airlines.]