The Only Thing Different

So this love song, which is really a lost love song, is one of my earliest memories. I can clearly remember my friend and I sitting in her tiny little bedroom (that she had to herself! Miracle of miracles! I had to share a tiny bedroom with 3 of my 4 brothers.) and she put this record on. I remember her telling me that it was her favorite song.

Mind you, we were all of 6 years old at the time, what did we know about love or lost love? But Patsy Cline’s voice was so amazingly beautiful and expressive that I think I was drawn to the pure emotion in her voice even if I didn’t understand what she was singing about. It was like nothing I had ever heard before. I remember that we would sing along into our hairbrush microphones (anyone else do that?)  and get a bit teary when we sang, “I’ve got these little things, she-ees. go-ot. yooooooooou!”

And yes, to answer your question, I did actually share a room with 3 of my brothers. At one point, all 5 of us were in the same room, but I only have a very fuzzy memory of that. Two sets of bunk beds and a crib in a 10 x 11 room. Talk about close quarters! I finally got my own room when I was 15. Explains a lot, yes?

Anywho. Back to the song.

Wait, hold on. Drunk brain is remembering that this same friend  had  a mom who was inordinately fond of Mercurochrome. You all know Mercurochrome? That antiseptic from ancient times? It stung (stinged, stang)  like a mofo when put on cuts. Once, we had a tremendous wagon wreck in which we both ended up being one giant scrape from head to toe and she poured that stuff all over us, and I swear to god that it felt like she was dipping me in hot oil. The cure was worse than the injury! Also, it stained your skin red for days. Sweet lard. (Oh, hello, old drunk lady! How are you? Come over here and tell us some more boring stories from your childhood.) A google search for the correct spelling of Mercurochrome has informed me that I may have been mercury poisoned by it.  Soooo. Wheeeeee! Mercury poisoning!

Ok. Now back to the song.

Wait, did I mention her bedroom was painted pink? So, she seemed to have it all, right? Well, there was that horrible thing with her pet rabbits. But I’ll save that story for another day. Trust me, it wasn’t pretty.  I left there that day thinking I was damn glad I wasn’t her. Own room or not.

Now. Back to that song.

Get a tissue, listen to it and let Miss Patsy break your heart.

 

“I’ve got your memory, or has it got me?

I really don’t know, but I know it won’t let me be”

 

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