Soundtracks

I am now in the middle of my junior year, and as I've reflected on this, it has come to my attention that so many memories are tied to music. So much so that each year, even each term, has a different feel depending on the 'soundtrack' during that time. If you can't tell, I've been waxing a bit nostalgic lately.

~Freshman year
Fall: I think the background music for this one is Over the Rhine (especially 'Born'). This dredges up memories of being the cook's assistant in the residence program, during which I listened to a lot of this. I never thought I could be so stirred in my soul by that kind of music
(when I came to Gutenberg, my musical repertoire was pretty much the homeschool mix of contemporary Christian, classical, show tunes, and Celtic. I don't consider this a negative list, but growing up I wasn't exposed to much secular music, and struggled with whether or not I was allowed to listen to it). Those memories and feelings are still so vivid.
Winter: Regina Spektor, the score to Amelie, and the music of Thomas Newman (Meet Joe Black, Little Women, and Finding Nemo). I call this 'White House music', because I have very special memories of this from the girls' house at Gutenberg.

~Sophomore year
Winter: I half-despondently, half-mockingly referred to this term as "The Winter of My Discontent": halfway through sophomore year, just months from two-year exams, and the pressure was on. It was a truly maniacal time, in which I was struggling spiritually between wanting light and only seeing darkness (I was given light, wonderful light, but that's another story). To get through despair, I had to laugh at myself, and I really did learn to treasure my life at the time. Not surprising, but this term's playlist was heavy on The Decemberists and Kate Nash. Dark, light, and thoroughly crazy and fun. And not totally hopeless. I really think 'Merry Happy' saved my skin.
Spring: Ah, Iron&Wine and Springtime. And traditional Greek church music, a cappella. So there you go.

~Junior year
Fall: After the gauntlet of sophomore exams, we are finally fancy-free! This is the term of Old Crow Medicine Show and Sufijan Stevens (and lots of songs that remind me of my sister). It's almost embarassing how many times one can listen to 'Wagon Wheel' in a row. Or, er, so I've heard.

So now we've come again to winter, partway through Junior year, and I have over two years' worth of beloved music, music which has been integral in me coming to know myself. It is yet early, but I believe this term is showing trends involving The Weepies, Imogen Heap, and The Postal Service. I'm optimistic about this forecast!

Yours, etc.

The Christmas Mango: a Christmas tale

This tale began a year ago, and quite by accident. I would imagine that many good stories begin quite by accident. Really, all that happened was a slight mix-up about fruits. You see, budgets being tight during Christmas, my parents decided to take the traditional (read: cheap) approach to gifts and filled our stockings with fruit and unshelled nuts. As we unloaded our stockings on Christmas, we were exclaiming over the novelty of our stocking-stuffers (which amounted to an orange and a pear each, along with the nuts) when one of my sisters broke out, "All right! I got a Mango!"
The other three of us looked down at our pears, wondering why they weren't mangoes as well and feeling a bit miffed. My mother's reaction was entirely different; that is to say, she was as confused as we were, but even more so, because she was convinced that she had bought four pears instead of three and a mango. To save face, she calmly replied to my sister, "No, that's a pear."
Knowing exactly what she was holding in her hand, my sister contended that it was indeed a mango. Despite her explanation that it had no stem and was shaped like a mango, my mother still held, "It is a pear, not a mango. I did not buy a mango". We were all extremely amused, especially since the two were almost in hysteria over the fruit. Finally my sister cried out in exasperation, "It's a MANGO! Look! There's a sticker on this fruit that says 'Mamba Mangoes'! We were rolling with laughter, while my mother fell silent for a minute, contemplating the situation. Finally she acknowledged,

"I thought that was an oddly-shaped pear."

So my mother had found a random mango resting with the pears at the grocery store. We enjoyed it so much that it became a new tradition. Each year, it is a surprise: Who will get the Christmas mango? And rather than remaining embarassed, my mother is extremely proud of this tradition, because she started it. Quite by accident, too, which makes it even better.