This morning, I finally realized the pregnancy hormones were in full effect when I got all choked up over Judy Collins’ rendition of Both Sides Now playing on the sound system at the Itaewon Starbucks.
You know, because I never really knew clouds … at all.
It’s not like I have any kind of youthful memories attached to the song. It came out in 1967, four years before I was born. I still went through a Judy Collins phase in junior high, wearing out my parents’ old copy of Hard Times for Lovers, which is probably what left me near tears.
The things I put them through.
I had a truly bizarre taste in music until at least late high school. In addition to the Judy phase, and my previously confessed dalliance with Loretta and Conway, the number of afternoons I spent playing ABBA’s Greatest Hits over and over probably drove my parents to secretly pray I’d fall in with the “wrong crowd” and take up some normal teenage activities, like illegal drag racing and underground tattoo art. At least it would have gotten me out of the house.
Fortunately, I proved to just be a late bloomer. My senior year, I started listening to REM, Sonic Youth, and the Smiths, mixing it up with a little Bon Jovi, on the side. (Hey, change doesn’t happen overnight! I still think “You Give Love a Bad Name” is a great song.)
That spring, my friends and I also discovered that the honor roll didn’t rate at all compared to the pleasures of skipping school to smoke and drink beer and amaretto sours out by the lake.
I’m gonna try to keep that in mind if this kid wants to spend hours in her room listening to nothing but Chris Isaak or the Miami Sound Machine.










