My brain throws things at me sometimes and it takes me a while to work it out. Maybe a week ago, I looked at my phone after reading in bed for a while and saw it was 11:30pm. The phrase ‘it’s half past eleven’ triggered a memory. I didn’t know what, but I did know it was a song.
Then, in the intervening time, my brain has mulled this over (singing that bit to me constantly) and I finally got the next bit of the song; something about missing a train and a place called Forrest Hills.
What the heck?
But at any rate, that’s enough info for me to Google it and get the song.
Harry Chapin Halfway to Heaven circa 1974.
So I go to YouTube to listen. It’s from the Verities and Balderdash album. My LP copy belonged to my elder brother. He left his records when he left home and I listened to the Beatles, the Rolling Stones, Cat Stevens, Ross Ryan, Blood Sweat and Tears and various other bands. My high school friends loved Abba and I’d say ‘Abba? Ugh. Have you heard the Who?’
The song is a middle aged man tale about how he thinks he’s missed out on something in his life. He plans to have an affair with his secretary.
The comments are mostly from guys who agree with this. It’s a good life rule to never read the comments, especially on YouTube.
This man is about to trash his marriage and betray ‘my Mary’ as he refers to her. Because his secretary wears nothing underneath her shirt? It’s the 70’s. That was the fashion. This is a power imbalance. He’s her boss. And he knows it’s not the right thing to do, as the song winds up to a crescendo and he notes that his life runs down even if the clock is electric and he can’t hear it.
This morning I woke up with that’s just the way it is and a moment of piano. I thought it might be Jackson Browne but googled that and it’s Bruce Hornsby and the Range from 1986. Dammit brain.
At least I’ve moved on to civil rights and addressing societal imbalances.