Christin
Lights- Journey
This song reminds me of my favorite city. When I moved down to the bay area in the late 90’s, I fell in the love with San Francisco. The people, places, and the culture were what attracted me. Fisherman’s Wharf, The Golden Gate Bridge, the bay… it felt like my home away from home.
When the lights go down in the City
And the sun shines on the bay
Do I want to be there in my City
Ooh, ooh
I had many firsts in the city by the bay. I tasted my first won-ton soup in China town. I also got inked my Pinky, a world-renowned tattoo artist whose little shop was snuggled in the Mission District. I enjoyed the best bread bowl clam chowder on Pier 39, not to mention the best tasting chocolate at Ghiradelli’s. My roommate and I would drive down and park, overlooking the bay on warm summer nights, we would talk about life, stupid boys, and our plans for the next adventure.
So you think you’re lonely
Well my friend I’m lonely too
I want to get back to my City by the bay
Ooh, ooh
Anything was possible in the city.
It’s sad, oh there’s been mornings
Out on the road without you
Without your charms,
Ooh, my, my, my
It has been 17 years since I have been back to my city. Ironically, my daughter is looking for colleges in the bay area to attend, which may or may not have been influenced by me. I am looking forward to a trip down there within the next year or two, check out some colleges with her, and last but not least take her to my old stomping grounds, except the tattoo parlor, that one is not on the itinerary. She and I will sit, overlooking the bay, and she will tell me all about her plans for her life, maybe even a stupid boy and we most definitely will talk about her next adventure.
When the lights go down in the City
And the sun shines on the bay
Do I want to be there in my City
Ooh, ooh
Jennifer
Before Christin and I sat down to write this post, we spoke on the phone. It went a little something like this.
Me~ So hey, how about we do a song about Father’s Day since you know, it’s Father’s Day tomorrow.
Christin~ Hmmm. Let’s see, well, the fact that I DO NOT HAVE A DAD is going to hinder my writing.
Awkward, to say the least.
So, before I get into my particular song, I want to give a shout out to Christin. I will not tell her story, that is for her to do one day, but there were many years when she was both Mom and Dad to her children and even more years when Christin’s amazing mother was fulltime Mom and Dad to her children.
For me, Father’s Day always comes at the beginning of Summer Vacation. I have spent many years closing in on the last days of school with my own kids while trying to figure out what kind of dinner I will ruin for Joe on Father’s Day. Not always an easy task! In more recent years, it is to the point where Joe is like “Just pick up some lamb, but don’t cook it, I will cook it!”
Yeah, you get the point.
When I was growing up, it was the same thing. Not my horrible cooking mind you, Father’s Day falling right around the end of one school year, with Summer Vacation a few days away.
I have spoken about my own Father many times on this blog. If you do a search, you will see a bountiful of cheesy sentimental post, coupled in with some funny “Dad Stories.” Ironically enough, my dad has his own blog where he and my uncle share their own cheesy sentimental post coupled in with comedic gold about their very own father. You can check out their blog Here.
One of my father’s first loves is music. I’m telling you, check out his blog and you will see. Music has always and will always be a big part of our lives.
Now the song I have chosen for this segment is anything but a song of summer. There is no talk of summer air and breathtaking beaches. Boardwalks and summer vacations could not be any further from this classic rock bands lyrics in 1981.
However, just like the story goes, it’s never really about the lyrics, it’s about the memory the song evokes.
If you’re havin’ trouble with your high school head
He’s givin’ you the blues
You want to graduate but not in his debt
Here’s what you gotta do
It did not matter where we were. In the car on a long car ride from Chesapeake, Virginia to Colonial Height, or in the cozy two bedroom second-floor apartment that had the prettiest bay window I have ever seen. As soon as my sister and I would hear the music coming from the car radio or the old fashion record player, all controlled by Dad, we would bust out in song as if we knew what we were actually singing.
We were so young. Both my sister and I not even knowing how to pronounce certain words. It did not matter though, that was “our song.”
Pick up the phone
I’m always home
Call me any time
Just ring
36 24 36 hey
I lead a life of crime
It would always be the chorus of the song where would sing to our lung capacity, missing baby teeth and all.
Dirty deeds done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds done dirt cheap
Dirty deeds and they’re done dirt cheap
We would sing to our heart’s content, even bopping along to the music while dad would be flipping through album cover, doing his own moves.
I told you, this was a far cry from a song of summer, but it was only the beginning. The beginning of a lifetime of memories with music being the bookends.
So Dad, if you are reading this, and you better be reading this being that you make up half of our readers, Happy Father’s Day. This one’s for you.
vodkacalling.com 
Ah!!! We still laugh when we hear that song!!! Thinking of you and Carolyn shouting out the chorus in the back seat!!!
I remember is sounded like this, in your little girl voices:
“Dirty Deeds….. Dunder Sheep!!!
Precious memory!