Musical Links

Growing up, my mom always said that when someone died, you were supposed to be in luto, grief. You were supposed to wear black, not partake in any types of festivities, and not play any music. But how can I not listen to music when it was such a big part of my relationship with my brother.


When I was little, like maybe four, I remember lying under the bed with Jorge in the room he shared with our two other brothers. We laid side to side. His math book open as he worked on math problem after math problem and an old-timey antenna radio tuned to the oldies station. I very clearly remember listening to Jewel Akens’ The Birds and the Bees while my brother sang along.

Later, he would become a country fan which, of course, meant that I now loved country too. Some of our favorites included George Strait, Roy Orbison, Tanya Tucker, The Judds, Randy Travis, Alabama, Kenny Rogers, Hank Williams, Rosanne Cash, to name a few. We would listen on a boom box and wait for the songs we liked so that we could record them onto blank cassette tapes.

When he left to the Army, we would make each other mixed tapes with voice overs with updates about what was going on. I imagine I complained a lot about how things were. It seemed to me that life fell apart when he left. Out of all of my siblings, I always missed him the most. He had always been the most patient with me. The one that never treated me like a pesky little sister, but his favorite person in the family. And yet, he seemed so far away in places I would never be able to visit—Oklahoma, Georgia, Tennessee, Korea.

After he completed his enlistment, he returned from Korea with so many cds and a really neat boom box. Not only did it play cds, but it also had a double cassette deck that allowed you to record from cds and cassettes. It was fun to listen to some of the new music he had even if I was in my rocker phase that made me turn up my nose at all the accordion music.

Later, when we lived on Harrier St., we used to drive down Stanely on our way home in his big white truck with music blaring. I remember how we used to always say that the best song for driving down the tree-lined street was The Fly’s Got You Where I Want You. We imagined it as the beginning of a movie about teenagers on the cusp of high school graduation.

I remember how every time I got a new-to-me car, he'd always get my radio replaced so that I could listen to my cds. If he was installing the radio, he'd rig it so that I could leave the radio on even when the car was completely off. 

When I’d go home for Christmas or summer vacation, I’d always take over as the car DJ and play songs off Pandora. If he said, “Oh I like that song,” or “That’s a nice song” I would always thumbs up it. And in that way, when I came back, there was always something else to remind me of him.

So when I got the text message that he was indeed gone, it made sense to get in the car and turn on some music.

It was always his wish that when he passed, someone would play all of his cds. Now, I spend all of my car rides listening to his cds. Even though he said no one needed to sit around and listen to the music, I like to listen and wonder which song made him interested in that particular album. Other times, I know exactly why he bought it because I remember him singing, whistling, and clapping loudly.

I’m glad I got to take on this task and that Hussy, my brother’s wife, let me take his cds. I love that I can drive around and feel like my Jorgito is with me.