The Forever-ness of Music

Jim Croce died 50 years ago today. He never went away.

Stick to (No) Sports Tuesday moves to Wednesday this week, mainly because I forgot that yesterday was Tuesday. (It happens, kids. You’ll get there, too, if you’re lucky.)

To appreciate fully today’s efforts, I ask that you listen first to my favorite song from one of my favorite artists. I’ll wait.

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I don’t know if Jim Croce knew the first thing about Alabama, or its rain. He grew up in South Philly, attended prep school nearby and went on to graduate from Villanova, situated along the city’s wealthy Main Line. Early in his career, Croce was a barnstormer. For a few years, he was playing 200 shows a year. A few had to be in Alabama.

It’s not important. What is, is the song rests in my heart like a good dream. Alabama Rain does what the best tunes do. It evokes. It conjures. It lingers. I can’t listen to it without feeling something I can't quite describe. Longing, maybe. An urge to revisit a past that never was.