When I was a little boy, five or six, possibly younger, I came to learn the lyrics of what had to be the first song I ever memorized (aside from children’s songs, of course). I would sing the song as often as I could and my parents found it amusing to have me perform for audiences of friends and relatives. It seems to me that I loved the song if I sang it that much. It was a hit on the radio at the time and I still have vague memories of singing the song (and I still know all of the words today). The song…?
Rhinestone Cowboy by Glen Campbell
The song is the second song on my massive, 196 track Autobiography playlist (which is in roughly chronological order) but it is there because of what it reminds me of, singing the song in my backyard while playing on the swingset–and not because I like it anymore. In fact, while I can’t quite bring myself to say I hate the song (hate is such a strong word), I don’t really like it all that much anymore and the only time I ever listen to it is in those nostalgic periods when I listen to my entire Autobiography playlist.