Songs from my childhood

I listened to this song in 1968 when it came out.

It’s 2019 now, and I’m 67 years old.

51 years ago!

Time flies. It feels like it drags when you are a child--but oh boy! That is an illusion. Time flies past you, and sometimes it takes you a long run (if time was a physical distance) to catch up.

But, I have arthritis.

I remember being 16, putting on my records, and feeling something growing inside of me I couldn’t understand.

When the song came out it was The Beatles.

But, my goddaughter gave me a CD, with this band called The Breeders, and I listened to the song again. A cover.

It felt a bit different. It felt like a song that encapsulated my defiant nature, my unwavering desire to be independent. Independent of society’s expectations and of my parent's expectations—-and it was a bit like being a teenager again listening to this version. It made me want to laugh and then cry, thinking of all of the time I wasted trying to make everyone else happy, and trying to hide the odd parts of myself to not stir the pot, or make anyone uncomfortable.

But, because of that, I was the one who always felt uncomfortable.

I have always loved Glenn Miller, too. You know this from when you heard me sing one of his songs on the beach—-Pennsylvania 6-5000.

This song, recently hearing it again, reminded me of our very first kiss on the beach.

I felt a million things, but mainly, I felt free. Like the trapped feelings inside of me were lifted and I could speak as much as I wanted, and be who I truly was. This song gives me the best feeling of being who I really am inside. And one day, we will dance to it.

Then, this song.

Released in the same year as my other favorite song, it flowed through my body like a restless sea, and I realize only now, my searing, hidden feelings at the time.

I was attracted to men and women equally. Being a Japanese youth raised by strict but loving parents, I never would dare admit it out loud.

It was bad enough to my father that I adopted some of the “loud” American music culture into my family’s regular classical repertoire, but if he had ever found out my true feelings for that mysterious and half naked man on the cover of The Doors, he would’ve burned half of my belongings, including the record player.

So, I kept it hidden. I hid it so well, in fact, that I forgot about it, too. For a long time.

I also had an affinity for The Beach Boys.

I loved their nostalgic sound, and it made me dream of a love story I might never have, but one day, I had hoped to truly enjoy. This song gave me that hope.

I wrote you this letter because it’s midnight, and I’m dreaming of you again. You’re in my house, in the other room, but I cannot reach you.

I cannot hold you.

I cannot kiss you.

I’m in my room with my wife; still on fire thinking of our frantic and passionate kiss from the other day. So, I am writing this to you instead.

And again my goddaughter Sayuri has given me a fresh new voice to have a new perspective of an older Beatle’s hit.

Real Love by The Beatles is a song that fills me with sadness, but it is so smooth and sweet and simple. It gives me an overall impression of peace.

As though everything will be okay, in the end. Not that it should, but that it will.

And this song was something I used to sing by myself in my room. Quietly.

It was a song by composer Burt Bacharach, but Sayuri and I watched this silly cartoon film movie, Boss Baby, just for fun a few years ago. The ending sequence with the cover for this song spoke to me somewhere deep inside my soul, and I had to seek out this new version.

This new voice was so beautiful to me, and I loved it. Now I listen to it, and it makes me picture you and me together.

Put Your Head on My Shoulder is a song that always made me think of my crush from when I was twelve years old.

She was a very nice girl from my school and the same age as me. Her name was Ahmya.

One day after school, I was walking home and she was walking the same way with me, as she lived on the same block.

We talked for a while, and got to know one another. And after that, we’d walk together to and from school, becoming good friends.

I never got the chance to tell her how I felt, because the next year, she and her family moved. I listen to this song thinking of her, and of our lost relationship. But it always makes me feel glad of what we had in that short period of time—that genuine bond of friendship. Ahmya and I listened to this song together once.

And lastly, a movie I had watched in 2001. Way before I had even tried to make any friends or relationships. I was the worst kind of recluse.

And I watched Amelie, and it lit up something within my soul.

Foreign films are my true love in cinema, and I feel I can connect with them almost better than my own culture sometimes. Just like that Spanish movie we just saw. That film tore me apart. I apologize for not discussing it with you.

This film brought out so many emotions within me. Some new, some old, and some painful.

And this song, is how I truly feel about you. There are no words to describe how much I love you, how deeply I feel our connection—and how I sincerely feel we are destined to be together one day.

We are soulmates, Akiho.

But I cannot give you this letter, because I’ll only do it once we can listen to all of these songs together with our love in full bloom.

Then, and only then, we can truly be ourselves, and dance in the moonlight, the starlight and under the gleaming sun.

Love, yours forever and always,

Junichuri

(Please let us also dance to Close To You, by The Carpenters, and the dreamier version by Josefine Cronholm.)