Play It Again!

Play It Again!

John Paul Derryberry

If you let me, I'll play a song, a record, a story, a movie, a TV show on repeat over and over again. It's one of my quirks that my wife pokes fun of me for and, on rare occasions, has to steer me away. Maybe it's how my life has unfolded that causes me to return time and time again to music, shows, movies, and books. They offer me something that I crave immensely, the feeling I valued In the moments when they happened—experiencing three tragic deaths before the age of 18 caused a lot of my thinking to change about life. Valuing the moment might be the biggest change. 

Part of the constant guilt I carry with me daily is, I didn't take advantage of the relationship I had with my father and my best friend Eric enough when I had them. I balance that guilt with a healthy dose of reminding myself only a few teenagers understand the value of a moment, the gift of connection, and how quickly it can all disappear. My little secret is: I do the play it again routine with memories from my life when I daydream. I replay little moments that have seemed to latch onto my thought processes—not wanting to let those memories slip into the abyss of forgotten memories.

So whether it's playing the country music act, Old Crow Medicine Show too much for my wife to handle, I can't stop. That is because watching Old Crow live at the Ryman Auditorium changed my life. There was a moment during the concert when I looked at Anne, at the time just a significant other, and thought, I'm going to marry this woman.  Just a short while later, we did just that. I can tell you almost everything about that concert, cause I play it in my head so much.

It could be the dinner up on section 13 of the Superior hiking trail, which I think about at least once a week. The climb, the view, and the culmination, my becoming a backpacker, occurred. It was the last night of our 60-mile hike over five days, a real trip, total disconnection from society.  It could be how I think about our college Wiffle ball field creation daily. Not because wiffle is better than other sports, but because we took an idea and made something that keeps a group of my college friends connected. We still argue about games that occurred over 15 years ago. If I close my eyes, I can describe every inch of the field. I'll save you the description because it would be three pages long.

It could be a chuckle I let out about how my senior year Prom date didn't care that my suit was a Halloween custom 20's zoot-suit I bought for $50 a year before. At the time, I didn't think much of it, but because the memory has stuck, I realize how cool it was for her to let me rock that outfit. She was cool, and as I age, I recognize a lot cooler than I understood at 17.  That suit probably kicked started my embracing of making custom outfits. Or, my speech at my brother's reception that caused him, who never to showed his emotions in public, to shed a small tear. That memory gets played often. That memory reminds me of the importance of my work in understanding emotions and how we all have them.

And now, as I try to slow down time with my little girls, I find myself latching onto memories as best as I can. Playing them repeatedly, so I file away as many memories to revisit as they age. So excuse me while I go hit play on Never Get Old by Nathanial Ratliff and the Night Sweats. It was the first song my little girls danced to, so it will always have a top-five place in my heart. I'm sure one day they will tell me to stop playing it, and I'll have my memories to lean on to remind of the good times, good people, and the way I want to live--with full understanding. Life is too short, to not play it again when the memory makes you smile.