Last night’s concert in St. Louis by Carole King and James Taylor brought back a flood of wonderful memories of my youth — a time when my album collection (vinyl recordings that is) was one of my prized possessions.  Hours of my teen years were spent with the recordings of King and Taylor beginning with Tapestry (of course) and Sweet Baby James along with Mud Slide Slim and the Blue Horizon (still one of my favorite album titles) and countless others.

It was no surprise that most of us attending knew the lyrics to every song from start to finish.

The piece that stuck out most for me was a song written the year I was born, 1960, and was the first hit written by Carole and then husband Gerry Goffin: Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow.

What struck me about hearing it last night was how love – the joy and the fear – in many ways transcends age.  King was 18 when she wrote the tune, and it has all the anxiety of a girl falling in love for the first time and unsure about what tomorrow may bring. 

Now, 50 years later, those of us hearing that song may view love much differently than an 18 year old — but I think love’s joy and fear, elation and trepidation, still exists in our relationships and is certainly one of the wonders of the human existence.

Each year, NPR’s reading of the Declaration of Independence always gives me chills.  Here’s this year’s version.

  
Download now or listen on posterous

20100702_me_01.mp3 (4210 KB)

Each year, NPR’s reading of the Declaration of Independance always gives me chills.  Here’s this year’s version.

  
Download now or listen on posterous

20100702_me_01.mp3 (4210 KB)