happy day

These were in the subject heading of an e-mail. I kept going back to it in my mind.

"Happy Day."

There's no reason why I should go all elsewhere when someone says or writes Happy Day.

Except for a song by Book of Love.

Otherwise negligible 80's teenage makeout music (a guilty pleasure, I'll admit), Book of Love made this one song that became an anthem of jaded hope between me and someone I knew. "Lead us to a happier day" says the bland, kiss me voice. And there it was: a happier day over the horizon--or around the bend, or whatever. The parallel lines who'll "meet somewhere in eternity, and they believe it."

Just seeing the title on the screen got to me. I thought I'd better listen to the tune, just to get it out of my system. So I listened to it. But it only sent me farther away. It was like taking off too quickly on a jet plane. It left my stomach behind. It's been a week and I'm still a little distracted.

Barber's Adagio. The Only Living Boy in New York. I Know It's Over. Street Spirit (fade out). Moon River. All the usual suspects. I'll even admit to feeling flight when I hear John Denver's The Eagle and the Hawk. I wonder when the next one will hit. Something new. Some new reason to get taken. I assume it can still happen.

It's an old line--how an old song can get to you. How a great song can transport you.

And either it makes you feel older than the hills, or reborn that very second. I can't tell anymore.