I was on the subway traveling to work reading one of the two free rag sheets handed out as you enter the system each morning. I always take both offerings, the Express put out by the WaPo (this is the paper that brought RMN down and ensured the continuation of our democracy) and the the Chronicle (put out by the Washington Times, which I think is or was owned by the Reverend Moon). I always like to know what the enemy is thinking.
The newsletter said Carly Simon's birthday was that day and she was 68. Ouch.
I thought back to 1972, in the days of the turntable and LP (are they back?) I bought her album, the one which showed her on the jacket picture as a luscious young woman who could belt out a song, and played her classic "You're So Vain" over and over again.
At age 20, I was living at home, having dropped out of college to "find" myself and my folks were carefully keeping their comments about my life's orb to themselves. I aspire to their approach (not that my kids communicate with me, whatever there're up to). The song on the album I reallyliked was "Father, I'm Sorry."
A girl was telling her Dad she wouldn't be returning home that night because, well, she was in love. You cannot try to stop love, it's like railing against the tide.
I heard the main song, You're So Vain, was about Mick Jagger because, well, when he enters, the entire room is focused on him. But in fact Carly had vocals on the track from James Taylor and she married him afterwards.
She also divorced him afterwards. I am shocked (I'm not a fan of the institution, people change and grow apart as the decades intercede)!
It was a bittersweet moment for me there jostling elbows with the suburban hordes on Metro, clouds in my coffee, as I had just passed 60 myself and become invisible to practically everyone and that this luscious girl in my memory who had confidently projected that she was totally independant and a hot catch now was calmy awaiting the end, alone I suppose (as we all are as we pass over). Huh.