W&W July Prompt / The Music of Summer

Brandy in Damariscotta

A summer story of independence and music

Music plays in the background of moments — small, monumental, inconsequential, and collective pieces of time.

You probably remember the first song played at your wedding reception, but can you recall the music playing when you received your first kiss? Surely, you can recall the song sung as your mother was laid to rest, but do you remember the tune she hummed while washing dishes?

Sometimes, a memory triggers the music. Sometimes, the music triggers the memory.

I have a song that played in the background of my senior year of high school and accompanied me on my first solo road trip.

I spent the summer after graduation working as a nurse’s assistant at Mount St. Joseph’s Nursing Home in Waterville, Maine. The work was challenging, rewarding, and exhausting. As August waned, I gave my notice, said goodbye to the nuns and nursing staff, and walked out the door.

I gave myself a free week before moving to the college I would attend. One of my goals for that week was to take my first solo road trip. I knew where I wanted to go but wasn’t sure how to get there.

Midway through my junior year of high school, I moved to Maine to live with my stepmother and half-sister.

My stepmom had a job that took her all over the state. When she wasn’t working, she told my sister and me to “load up” and we went all over the state for fun.

I didn’t receive my driver’s license until my senior year, and I almost never drove, despite having a car. I knew many towns in Maine, had a vague idea where they were but no inkling of how to get to any of them.

In the days before cell phones and Google maps, we had paper maps that folded like an accordion to the size of a #10 envelope. Once a map was unfurled, it was impossible to reassemble to the neat rectangle of crisp creases and flattened folds it once was.

I opened my map and found the destination of my solo road trip — Damariscotta, a quaint village on a river of the same name and known as the Oyster Capital of Maine. Across the river is Newcastle. Together the towns are known as the Twin Villages.

I made notes of the roads to take and shoved the crumpled map (once used, those maps were always crumpled) into my glove compartment.

My little white Toyota Corona and I began our road trip!

The drive was less than 50 miles but to me, it was a journey of independence and adventure. I drove with the window down (no air-conditioning) and the music loud.

No streaming music, no CDs, no cassette tapes, not even 8-tracks. Just the radio. As one station faded, I searched for another — by turning a dial.

Time after time, the same song played, as though the radio stations conspired to play Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl)by Looking Glass over and over on the same day. I didn’t mind. Brandy was the song in the background of my senior year. Seemed fitting that it came along on the ride to Damariscotta.

I don’t remember much about my time in Damariscotta. I visited the Ram Island Light House and walked through the village. I bought a fried oyster sandwich and ate it while sitting on a pier jutting into the river.

Guess what was playing in the restaurant where I bought my sandwich? Yes, Brandy.

Guess what was playing in the background while I lunched? Yes, Brandy.

As shadows grew long and the air grew cool, I knew it was time to head home. My solo road trip was coming to an end.

I got in my car and turned the key. The engine began to hum and the radio came alive. Guess what was playing? Yes, Brandy.

© Dennett 2021

In response to the July Weeds & Wildflowers prompt, The Music of Summer: