Objects of Affection

objects of affection

Tell me about

your favorite song.

When I was a little girl, about 7 or 8 years

She drove an enormous baby blue Cadillac

old, I would go spend several days with my

Fleetwood and we would zip into the teeny

grandparents in the summers. I’m not sure

town and head to the grocer’s – Pell’s Market.

where my parents and younger sisters were, but I was glad for the solo attention. My grandparents lived in a small, small rural town in central North Carolina, and during those visits I would go with my grandmother to run errands.

Mr. Kermit Pell owned the store and whenever I walked in with my grandmother he would always start singing to me -“Hey There, Georgie Girl” – a song by The Seekers in 1967. It made me feel like the most special person in the world – a song just for me.

The first time I heard my most memorable

Even as a young child I was struck by the

piece of music, Satie’s “Gymnopédie No. 3,”

lightness and the weight of the beautiful

I was about 5 years old and listening to it in a

rhythm and the searching piano. No one

night-darkened living room with my parents,

spoke even after it ended until my brother-

adult sisters, and one of their husbands.

in-law said that “the unanswered question had just been answered.” And I thought to

My dad was playing records and, as was his

myself, even as a young child, that I had

want, he introduced this particular piece of

glimpsed something true and authentic

music before playing it with superlatives

and bigger than me in that living room

and fanfare, describing it as the most

that night.

beautiful composition ever written.

The

whole family listened in silence to the 3 minutes of introspection.

After I grew older and cynical, I still listened to Gymnopédies, and I always would remember hearing it that first time. But, as a young man, I would bristle when I would think about it too hard, and I would laugh at my childhood memory and the overly dramatic words from my brother-in-law.

As I’ve grown older still and further hardened in many ways, I still listen to Gymnopédies.

And what’s clear to me is that this music is genuine beauty. It is pristine and authentic and bigger than my middle aged self, bigger than my older aged self, and big enough to fill the open and uncritical mind of a child.

It will stick with me always and it will strike me with awe as long as I live.

“Ribs” has been my favorite song since I first heard it in 2013. It’s consistently been on my playlists since then, nearly all of them. There’s always been something about this song that I’ve never been able to put into words – but I will give it my best shot.

I wish I could remember the very first time I heard it. I think it was when my sister’s friend introduced us to Lorde’s music. Which makes sense because “Ribs” always has and always will make me think of my sisters and the friends I’ve had the longest. It will forever remind me of my roots.

We listen to it constantly, so I don’t really know how to zero in on only one time. When I try to, I just see a supercut of high school and different times it has helped me through heartache.

I see my first true heartbreak. I see losing important friends. I see every version of myself growing up. I see my uncles and grandma passing away, I see my family grieving. To

me,

this

song

embodies

nostalgia, which has always been a tricky emotion for me. It confuses me to feel so extremely happy and sad at the same time. I think that’s why this song is so influential to me. “Ribs” holds the two emotions I believe to be most powerful: love and loss. It holds them simultaneously and with equal weight – and I think this is what nostalgia is all about.

I think it’s about the most pure moments of our lives passing us by before we know it. Moments of importance we don’t realize until they’re gone. I think nostalgia is trying to catch something that always slips through your fingers, and I think a lot of times that something is related to youth or the past.

So when

something

I hear “Ribs”

precious and

now, it kind of

cherish all its

feels like a “is the

beauty while

glass half empty

you can, you’ll

or half full?”

find that there’s

situation. In

still beauty

Lorde’s words, do

left to uncover

I try to hold onto

once it’s gone.

this feeling of

And so I think

“laughing till our

“Ribs” to me now, means

ribs get tough,”

learning to enjoy the

or do I succumb

precious up close while I can,

to “that will never

appreciating it from afar when

be enough?”

it’s gone, and accepting that all

Generally, I think

things – precious and painful–

even if you try to

come and go.

hold on to

My grandparents have lived in two different places since and lived in at least two different places before, but when I think of “grandma’s house,” I picture my grandparents’ Flossmoor condo where they lived for years when I was a kid. I think it sticks with me most because at that time my

cousin lived with them, and my cousin is probably the most important person in my life.

“Grandma’s house” was not really “grandma’s house,” but in my heart, I understood it as my cousin, Cierra’s house.

Although she’s only two months older than me, and everyone looked at us as the same age, I had a sense of respect for her that I would give an elder. Even if she was younger than me, I might have viewed her the same way. Cierra was curious and an adventurer, and growing up, she was much tougher and more rebellious than me, although that didn’t take much because I was quite a goodytwo-shoes and followed every rule that was given to me. But Cierra was different and I admired her greatly for that.

Growing up, Cierra exposed me to things like reality TV and horror movies, and she showed me cool computer games where you could create an avatar and talk to people around the world. And she showed me music.

Cierra and I definitely had different tastes in music. I remember her loving the artist Tink when I was into Katy Perry, easily showing the different environments we grew up in.

I don’t remember my grandparents’ condo

My cousin exposed me to Frank Ocean. We

exactly, but the layout still sticks in my mind

watched bold white italicized lyrics on the

pretty clearly. My grandparents’ computer

bright orange background and I loved what I

was held in the dining area against the wall,

heard. Here was a song that both my cousin

between the entrance to the kitchen and their

and I thoroughly enjoyed. I remember watching

big wooden dining room table. Cierra and I

intently, we didn’t dance or try to sing along, we

would sit at the computer, me squeezing a

would just watch and read the words as they

big dining room chair next to the smaller

popped up on the screen. It’s so funny to think

computer chair she sat in, and we would

of this now, what we did before we had phones,

play computer games or watch lyric videos

how easily we could focus all of our attention on

for hours.

something as if it was the only thing that could have existed in our worlds at that moment.

One time, while we were choosing lyric videos to watch when we were 10, Cierra clicked on a video and a bright orange flooded the computer screen accompanied by

string

instruments,

soon

followed

by “A tornado flew around my room, before you came...” and suddenly, my life was changed forever.

w f le

r a

m y d r oom n u o

a c u r e yo

m

be

rna

d

o

e. .

.”

“A t o

fo

The simple melody of the song, the repetitive

That song helped me understand the way

trance-like background music, and Frank

I actually wanted to express myself to the

Ocean’s slightly raspy falsetto got me. It

world. I’m thankful it did and forever and

was super different than the pop music I

always thankful for my cousin for all the

was accustomed to. It felt more intimate and

ways she’s made my world bigger and better.

vulnerable. It calmed me instead of exciting me and I liked that more.

“Thinkin BoutYou” really led me to who I am today. It introduced me to the world of Odd Future, tumblr, and queerness which led me to an interest in writing poetry and fashion.

Two things that truly shaped my identity and became my outlets of self expression.

Frank Ocean remained one of my favorite artists and I would never have guessed that song I listened to when I was 10 would lead me to think more deeply about my identity and the vast identities and complex lives of other people.

Most of my favorite songs were introduced to me by my dad. I fell in love with “Harvest Moon,” “The Weight,” “Fade Into You,” and “Lay Lady Lay” on the drives to and from the Jewel-Osco on Lake. My younger siblings often in the backseat, Pops jamming out in the front, and everyone enjoying the music together. I think all my siblings cherished these drives — an unspoken but universal recognition of being with Pops while doing his favorite things — going grocery shopping and listening to his music.

At the outset of high school, when time together felt rare with busy schedules and workloads, these trips were less frequent.

One night, though, hours after everyone in the house had gone to sleep, I heard Pops come home from a work trip. The soft thud of his briefcase on the counter followed by footsteps into the empty kitchen. Excited to see him, I slinked downstairs in the dark.

Quietly, he said, we should sneak out to Wendy’s to try their new sea salt fries. I was delighted by his invitation. A chance to spend some time together, just the two of us. Blanketed by the night, we drove down Madison. Pops had just gotten a new CD he’d heard about on NPR — some new indie band from “Ore-gone.” He fed the disc into the stereo and “One Red Thread” by Blind Pilot hummed from the speakers as we pulled into the drive-thru. My worries about

I have to say there was a mile or two

what was next after high school and whether

I had the itch to fly and I flew

I would be able to get there subsided as the

Now at best we would make our dreams

song filled the car. The moment felt carved

With something used

out just for me.

With something used When I left a few years later I held that memory tight. Ten years later, and ten years in Oregon, I hold that memory even tighter.

The only line that is true is the line you’re from The only line that is true is the line you’re from