Same Old Lang Syne

The recent passing of Dan Fogelberg took me back to the summer of 1982. I’d graduated from high school the year before and was trying to put a responsible young adult’s life together, which meant going to work part-time and going to college part-time. My neighbor and childhood friend S— had just graduated from high school, and in the fall she was headed for UC Davis, but we were still hanging out, and that summer we played tennis and piano and guitar and occasionally went to the movies. S— was…how can I say this? She was my benchmark for what “good” in the conscientious sense meant to me, and although I was not a “bad” person, I struggled to be “good.” Though I appreciated music that was "bad" in the Sex Pistols sense, Dan Fogelberg was the sort of “good” music we listened to most, and when he swung through the Bay Area on tour for his double album “The Innocent Age” we bought tickets. S— drove us there and back in her Toyota Corolla. My parents—my mother especially—approved of S- whereas if I had been going to a beach house for the weekend with a bunch of other teenagers, approval and permission to go would not have been granted. In any case, I did like Fogelberg’s music, his voice, and in secret, his looks. I couldn’t tell S— this; I wasn’t out to her. I wasn’t out to many people. Among the various things I’d learned from all those missteps in Late High School was how far out of the closet to step, and with whom. But I could and did talk openly and freely about how much I loved Fogelberg’s voice and songwriting, and I realize as I’m writing that this provided a way of talking about a man turning you on without talking about a man turning you on.
Of course, I knew of Fogelberg from the single “Longer”, which peaked at Number Two on the Billboard charts back in 1980. “The Innocent Age” yielded four Top Ten singles, including one of the great all-time pop ballads, “Same Old Lang Syne.” The song is reminiscent of Harry Chapin’s “Cat’s in the Cradle” in that it tells a somewhat mawkish personal story, but it was an instant classic. Even at 18, I'd already suffered real love and real heartbreak, so I related to the song. Listening to some other samples from “The Innocent Age” while I’m writing this, I still hear the easefulness of the melodies and the lyrics that first, in combination with Fogelberg’s voice, captured me. I also hear the sound of a man who had found his passion and his gift and was using it, and I can’t help wondering now if that captured me as well.

This will be my last entry for the year. On Friday I am returning to New York City for a week. It will be my first visit there since my move to Buffalo in May. I am looking forward to seeing friends there; just as I now have a Buffalo family and a West Coast family, I still have a New York City family, and I need/want to see them. I also intend to “do” New York the way I need/want to: lots of social visits, but also sightseeing, restaurants, and maybe even a Broadway show. I am also curious to see what it is like to be there again, the city where so many of my own stories occurred, the city where I also found my own voice. Who knew that I would learn that you can, as Fogelberg did, take your voice anywhere and still sing the way you're supposed to? Wherever you are now, Mr. Fogelberg, I hope you're still singing.