One of my favorite types of music is folk music. I love a good story, and I love it even more when it's set to music.
I blame this mostly on my mom, but also a little bit on my dad.
One of my favorite family activities was playing my mom's records on her big cabinet-style stereo system. You know the ones from the 70s—the kind that looked like furniture, skipped if you jumped too much, and had an 8-track player that somehow mysteriously never worked.
The records my mom listened to most were Cat Stevens, Joan Baez, and Barry Manilow. (Ok, Barry Manilow isn't folk, but come on! You know you dance and sing when you hear Copacabana and Can't Smile Without You!)
My brother and I would put on Copacabana and dance around the living room like fools, singing about Lola the showgirl with the yellow feathers in her hair. The song made me imagaine Copacabana and Lola dancing and Tony tending bar. It transported me to that place.
My mom's favorite artist, though, was Cat Stevens. She had stacks of his albums and even a Cat Stevens T-shirt. Yep, that's right.
I can still hear Morning Has Broken playing while my mom softly sang along. I remember hearing songs about a wild world and moonshadows and wondering what a moonshadow actually was. I had no idea, but I knew I wanted to leap and hop on one.
Then there was my dad.
He had a stack of 45s, and our favorite was Tennessee Ernie Ford. We'd sing along to Sixteen Tons and Dark as a Dungeon, songs about hard work, coal mines, and always owing a little more than you had. At the time, I didn't fully understand what it meant for St. Peter to call you because you owed your soul to the company store, I just knew it was a story, and I loved stories.
The thing about all those songs is that they told one.
Cat Stevens sang about finding your own path, searching for meaning, and making your way through the world. Tennessee Ernie Ford sang about hard work and the realities of life. Looking back, I can see pieces of my parents in both.
My mom was artistic, empathetic, and yes, maybe a bit of a dreamer. My dad was practical, grounded, and one of the hardest-working people I've ever known.
As I got older, my music tastes changed, but the heart of it stayed the same.
In college I discovered Bob Dylan and Bob Marley. I remember thinking, wow, these guys stood for something. They believed in something. They had stories to tell.
Everything Is Gonna Be Alright is still a song I find myself singing more often than you might believe. Whenever life gets messy—and life has a way of getting messy—I can still hear that little bird singing sweet songs and reminding me that things will probably be ok.
These days my folk music is more Lumineers and Mumford & Sons. My husband kind of pokes fun at my love of folk music, but that's ok.
Folk music makes me feel something.
Folk music is something that seeps into my soul and before I know it I'm sitting there either with tears in my eyes or an Amen Brother. I sing it, I dance to it and I feel it. Maybe that's because the best folk music tells the truth.
And that to me is what good music is supposed to do.
The lyrics with the music carries me into someone else's world. A world that somehow feels a lot like my own. The fears, the dreams, the mistakes, the hope. Suddenly I realize that someone else has felt what I'm feeling. Someone else has asked the same questions.
Maybe that's why Cat Stevens always resonated with me. His songs weren't really about moonshadows or peace trains. They were about searching. About trying to figure out who you are and where you belong.
Come to think of it, that's probably why I started this blog.
Jill's Backroad isn't really about backroads. It's about the people, places, furry friends, mishaps, adventures, and unexpected turns that shape us along the way. It's about being curious enough to take the next road, even when you don't know exactly where it leads.
We're all on the road to find out something.
This little corner of the internet is where I'm figuring out what that something is.