Shout!

Shout
Shout
Let it all out
These are the things I can do without
Come on
I’m talking to you
Come on

On a cold, rainy day, back when I was a young boy, in mid-March of a time ago, I went with my mother to a department store — I think it was Strawbridge & Clothier — to shop for spring clothing, one of those rare times when we had enough money and gumption to travel downtown instead of just going to the Salvation Army. Besides, the clothes were for her and my sister, not for me, so it was much more imperative to get good, quality clothing that would last. And downtown held no magic then, nothing save the large unadorned Christmas tree across from City Hall that was still up, even if stripped of all its baubles and lights. I learned later that it was just a regular tree growing in the park that I had mistaken for a Christmas tree, but that took away none of its mystique for me as a young boy. As we got off the El and climbed the stairs, it greeted me like a welcome friend. Then we were inside the revolving doors and I was transfixed by the largest store I had ever seen in my life. Over the speakers the sounds of music seemed to drown out everything else.

And when you’ve taken down your guard
If I could change your mind,
I’d really love to break your heart
I’d really love to break your heart

In violent times
You shouldn’t have to sell your soul
In black and white
They really, really ought to know
Those one track minds
That took you for a working boy
Kiss them goodbye
You shouldn’t have to jump for joy

I was hiding out in the ladies’ dressing room. Well, not really hiding out as my mother was in the next stall with my sister, trying on clothes that would probably not even last through the entire spring. The music was also being piped into the little rooms with the sliding curtains for doors, so as I sat on the little chair I was mesmerized by it. I had never heard anything of a secular nature before. This was before muzak became the music of choice for most department stores, but I didn’t realize at the time the change that was soon to come. I just knew that I liked the song that was playing. The lead singer’s voice just spoke to me in a way that gospel music just didn’t begin to touch. Don’t get me wrong, I love gospel music, but having something fresh and new, with a force and power that this song had, it was beyond incredible.

Come on
I’m talking to you
Come on

We left the dressing room as the last faint strains of the song died out to nothing, and I don’t even recall what came on next. For the next several years I searched long and heard for that song again, to hear it just once more, but it seemed to have disappeared, to have vanished in thin air with nothing left of it save my memory, and that too was drifting. I felt bereft. I wanted more, more, more, and eventually I was to get it. One day, probably three years later, I was surreptitiously listening to the radio when I heard it again. Yes, it. That song was on, calling out to me, and I listened intently to find out who sang it. Another song came on after it without any claiming of its title, but after that next song ended, I finally knew the answer I had been seeking so long. It was Tears for Fears, and I was in love. Now, to this day, every time I hear the song I am transported back to that place and time, to that feeling of pure bliss, regardless of where I am and of who I’m with. It’s my time machine, and I am grateful to it, and to Strawbridge & Clothier.

These are the things I can do without

Come on

Sam