Barry Manilow
I’m heading home from Alaska now, landing in Denver just in time to spend a couple hours with my wife in the United Red Carpet Club before she heads down to Biloxi to visit with her father and I go home to spend 24 hours with the kids (when they’re not in school), take in a hockey playoff game, and then head down to Baton Rouge to meet up with some of my business team members. As I think forward to those couple hours in the airport, I can’t help but think about how this reminds me of Barry’s song that goes, “we’re two ships that pass in the night”. The lyrics for the song are so typical of our life right now – “we both smile and we say it’s all right” and “we’re still here it’s just that we’re out of sight”. Yep, that’s us. Because of my schedule and her much more mobile life, we do too often just “pass in the night”.
The good thing about Barry Manilow is that his songs reflect our life so beautifully – the good times, the bad times, the love that we share and the frustrations that we sometimes feel. For example, Somewhere in the Night is such a vivid description of the love I feel for my wife – “Time, you found time enough for love, and I found love enough to hold you”. Or Weekend in New England defines the all too busy schedule that we have with, “and tell me when will our eyes meet, when can I touch you, when will this strong yearning end, and when will I hold you again?”
When I was at the Academy, Barry Manilow was at the top of the charts with one sad song after another. I remember listening to his songs over and over and over again during some tumultuous times in my relationship with my wife back then. We started dating when we were both teenagers, and knew each other long before I went to the Academy. Barry sang of separation, and we were separated for 4 long years. Barry sang of anticipation and expectation, and that was so beautifully indicative of our relationship. Barry sang of the pain of loss and the sadness of break ups, and we had our share of those before we got married. And Barry sang of the magic of love and the beauty of songs and the excitement of words and locations, and I smiled and often times cried through every one of them.
We spend our lives trying to be tough and hide our emotions. I’ve had lots of people comment to me in my life time about how I never cry. But those people don’t know me very well…they don’t see the tears…they don’t see the pain…they don’t see the sorrow…but I bet they see the love…I bet they see the compassion…I bet they see me pause when Barry Manilow or Jimmy Buffet (I love the song “Survive”) or Chicago (our song is “Hard to Say I’m Sorry”) comes on the radio. I find my feelings so beautifully described in these songs, and during those long separations, those songs in so many ways kept me going – in fact, they still do.
It’s amazing how it’s really no different today. As Barry says, “and maybe the old songs will bring back the old times, maybe the old lines will sound new” or “I almost forgot what it’s like, holding you near me at night, but now that I’m home again you’ll know that I’m home to stay, because it’s a miracle, a true blue spectacle, a miracle come true.”