I didn’t fall in love with Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers on my own.
We loaded up the car in no real rush, miles ahead of us and a soundtrack that seemed to stretch as far as the road. Along the way, with windows rolled down, we’d pass by wild (iron) horses, wind blowing through our hair. Hot, dusty desert air that somehow, on the road, felt cool and alive breezing and swirling through.
Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, Rush, Pink Floyd, the Grateful Dead. Music I might have never found on my own, but somehow became part of me. A soundtrack that was guiding and pointing me in the direction of who I would become.
There is something magical about a road trip that makes everything feel suspended.
At the Gorge
At the Gorge Amphitheatre everything felt bigger. The canyon opened wide under an endless sky, the Columbia River rushing through below, like it had seen it all before and would long after we were gone. The music carried differently there, like it had more space to breathe.
We didn’t just go for the shows. We camped out, hiking by day under the hot sun, and sitting by a crackling fire at night. The music still echoing long after the last set had ended. Those quiet moments after the sun sets, the cool of dusk gently blowing through the dark night air.
On a Seattle night, sleep awaited as Eric Clapton serenaded his captives with “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” the moment lingering like a dream. Surreal, haunting, a memory one hopes never fades.
Too young, too naive yet to accept the music would be all that could endure.
The Songs Stay With You
Long after the road trips ended, after the camping gear was packed away for good, after the version of us that existed in those places quietly disappeared, the music stays with you.
Tom Petty still comes on. Rush. Pink Floyd. Songs that once felt like shared memories now play in entirely different spaces. Like time travel, they live on now with my life partner, our children, and their young loves. And every time the songs play, they remind me of a version of myself I don’t quite recognize anymore, but haven’t completely let go of either.
They keep playing, hauntingly familiar, holding onto pieces of your life you can’t return to, but can still feel.
The songs still carry us through, and somehow still know exactly where to find us.
Written by Lisa Schlemmer. Co-Founder of CastleMania Games and CastleMania Entertainment. Lisa connects artists, entrepreneurs’ stories, and community through meaningful conversations and experiences.
