Memory is a funny thing. It’s also very tricky. It’s fluid and malleable. Memories can be implanted or modified. Memory is a funny thing.
Take, for instance, a memory I hold to this day surrounding Paul McCartney & Wings’ number one hit song, ‘My Love’. The song was written by Paul about his wife Linda (to whom, if she hadn’t died, Paul would still be happily married) and released in March 1973. At the time, I was 9 years-old.
Although the song was commercially successful, from what I gather, it wasn’t highly thought of critically. It is a fairly light and sugary song by Paul and it might have been the negative critical reaction to ‘My Love’ that inspired Paul to write ‘Silly Love Songs’. Well, be that as it may, I still like the song.
But, I started talking about memory, didn’t I. Here’s what I mean. I have a distinct memory from the summer of 1973 or 1974 involving this song.
I come from a family with four kids: an older brother and sister, then me, and a younger brother. And when we were old enough for the responsibility of chores, we got ‘em. We didn’t have a dishwasher (but, according to my dad, we had four of them.). So, each of us kids would get one week each month in which we had to do the dishes.
We were allowed to listen to the radio, as long as it wasn’t too loud, while we did our chore. We all listened to some Top 40 AM radio station in those days. What I remember is doing the dishes one summer evening, listening to the radio, and on came the song ‘My Love’.
That’s it. It’s weird how something so mundane sticks with you, isn’t it? To this day, whenever I hear that song I think of that moment; standing at the kitchen sink, gazing out the window, washing dishes and listening to Paul McCartney & Wings.
Memory is a funny thing.
I’ve included the video clip for the song.