Old Lang Syne

Dan Fogelberg died today. It was surprising to me how instantly and profoundly sad I was. My heart literally hurt. I don't know when I first became aware of his music. It had to have been in college.

The year I was a junior my family took a road trip to Williamsburg, VA, leaving the day after Christmas. Ron and I had just started dating a few months before so the last thing I was really excited about was being separated from him for a week during our Christmas break. I remember riding in our huge Buick LeSabre down a really snowy and slick road in the hills of Virginia listening to "Old Lang Syne," just craving Ron's arms around me. That song immediately transports me back to that cold winter day. And I'm still craving those strong arms of Ron Martin.

We had "Longer" sung at our wedding (by Robin Lynn Macy, one of my sorority sisters and one of the original Dixie Chicks). And I sang it at a friend's wedding. Kate was incubated to the sounds of "Home Free," my favorite Fogelberg album (and I think one of his first, if not THE first album). And, not surprising at all, it's one of Kate's favorite albums, too. The music is hauntingly poignant in its lyrics and has beautiful instrumentation. I can be totally stressed out and as soon as I hear the first chord it's all gone. I think if more people had "Home Free" the makers of Prozac would go out of business.

I have one of Dan Fogelberg's guitar picks. My brother found it onstage at the concert hall at MU after one of his concerts. How do I know it was Fogelberg's? Because he was the only one on stage.

We got to see him once in concert. I was about eight months pregnant with Tyler and it was at Sandstone. Again, he was the only one on stage and it was unforgettable. Tyler says one of his strongest memories of our old house is coming downstairs on Saturday mornings to a warm fire and Dan Fogelberg music. I'm so glad we didn't go to a Kiss concert during our children's formative years.

I'm going to go dig out all those cd's right now and let the mellow begin . . .