and Words
Lyric excerpts from Musixmatch.
Last night as I managed my music library, I shuffled files from one computer to the next. It’s all in how we now manage what spanned hundreds of discs in jewel cases into what fits into a USB flash drive. I watched as the software meticulously scanned each file and folder spanning tens of gigabytes, quietly fetching metadata from the internet to enhance my listening enjoyment. Meanwhile, each album cover magically appeared in my online collection.
Normally, these pictures flash, and I think little of them. While I’ve structured this blog by reminiscing about a memory from music, the trigger is almost always hearing the music, not merely seeing the album cover. However, one album cover causes me to stop and immediately transports me back to a moment, just like a scene from Somewhere in Time. That album was The Maverick’s “From Hell to Paradise”.
While I look at the album’s contents, the song ‘Children’ holds a particularly soft spot in my heart.
Flashback to around 1990, into a dimly lit bar in Miami… or specifically Coconut Grove. Coconut Grove appears glitzy to the casual observer, but upon straying more than a block from its center, both drug dealers and pimps may proposition you. My sister, friends, and I didn’t pack ourselves into a bar for the drinks; I think she was barely old enough to drink. Today, we arrived for the music, to see the Mavericks play.
The Mavericks are a country music band. I learned about the Mavericks from our friend. He introduced me to band members, though the only ones I remember were Raul and Bobby. If you’ve tracked my posts, you’ll notice that I rarely listen to country music. My tastes lean towards popular, rock, and even hard rock. Why the fascination with this band? First, they were founded right here in Miami, so there’s a certain kinship. Second, Raul Malo, the lead vocalist, comes from Cuban descent.
As I hear the distinctive start to the song ‘Children’, I’m torn between the inclination to dance or listen. Tonight I listen. The words paint a grim picture of, I’m sure someone’s, reality. As the words strike, I couldn’t help but feel the overwhelming helplessness of this story, and in a quiet moment, I weep. However, as the chorus hits, it comes with some healing and perseverance. Though it’s only a song, it inspires me. And in mere minutes, it ends.
Between sets, my sister wanders up to talk to Raul and makes a request. He happily acquiesces. The Mavericks play an old Spanish children’s song, ‘Cielito Lindo’. However, they play it in a way that only they can play it. Raul somehow sings in Spanish with unmistakable country inflection. His voice sears into my memory and those words echo in my ears even decades later. I don’t believe it’s ever been recorded; I’ve looked.
I’ve personally struggled with my language, culture, and how it plays a role in who I am. I found it truly inspiring to see and hear Raul Malo navigate that figurative fork on the road by simply refusing to adhere to any social standard, to indeed take an entirely different path.
Though I didn’t know it at the time, that outing with those college friends forebode an eventual transition that I’d make. As I started college, I magically found kinship; for years I led a double life. During the weekdays, I worked diligently to complete my engineering education. In contrast, I spent weekends living among my kin, other nocturnal creatures. I happily juggled this existence, quietly transitioning between the weekday’s Bruce Wayne and the weekend’s Batman. As any juggler will tell you, you’ll eventually need to stop. And so I did.
My Bruce Wayne persona bled into the night of bars and leisure, like the mixing oil and water. I navigated this nocturnal environment among a kin of a different sort. No, they did not grow up as Chinese-Americans nor could they truly understand that existence. However, in the years of dedication to my studies, I developed a newfound kinship, forged by hours in books and behind computer terminals. Except for my sister, no one else understood this duality.
That night foreboded my eventual life as just Bruce Wayne. Upon graduating and accepting a job offer in Washington, I never again found a Chinese-American community in the same way, figuratively Batman simply stopped appearing.
As I reflect on this moment over thirty years ago, I look up the Maverick’s most recent album. It surprised me to find that they released an album this year. I ponder about that dimly-lit bar and Raul’s voice sweetly singing the melancholy words from ‘Children’. Among the three of us (Raul, my sister, and I), we spanned the ages of 21 through 25. We barely passed the qualification of children ourselves, only now does that irony strike.
Raul Malo still releases music with the Mavericks. I bought a CD of their music that night decades ago and still have it; their career has legitimately spanned thirty-four years. In a world of one-hit wonders, they are a force. While I generally don’t listen to country music, I can still appreciate their accomplishments.
My sister? She went on to get her master’s degree in mechanical engineering. She designs jet engines for a living, making her a literal rocket scientist. Every time I bring this up, she winces as though I inflate her accomplishments. I don’t. The reason the phrase, “It’s not rocket science” exists is because it is difficult. It speaks to her humility.
I graduated and went to work at Microsoft for close to thirty years. I worked strictly in the Windows division for that time, both as a tester and a developer. If you listen to music or hear audio at all on Windows, I had something to do with it. I now work at TPCi. I went from making products that people need to ones that make them happy. 🙂
Unless we each plan to be working into our nineties, we can safely assume that we’re in the latter half of our careers. Though by most standards, we have already accomplished enough to span respectable careers, we continue. It fulfills us.