Jane writes:
For me a car journey has always been about far more than getting from A to B. Of course that matters but it’s about so much more. Music. The whole listening experience of music remains confined in the car space and I can tell you where I was going the first time I heard all kinds of albums. U2’s ‘The Joshua Tree’ or Alanis Morisette’s ‘Jagged Little Pill’ – I could go on.
We had car music listening rules in our house for as long as I can remember. Family trips as a child meant taking it in turns for your choices to be played with those of grown-ups. My daughter and I had rules about playing new albums all the way through first time around before launching into the repeat city that was around instant favourites.
It’s also a place of singing. Loudly. Probably out of tune – well a little bit. Great improvised harmonies tho. All this with my Mum and Dad as a kid – those easy listening numbers that Neil Diamond and his contemporaries had to offer. My daughter and her friends – especially the big show-stopping tunes. My best mate and pretty much anything frankly!
Right now all this looks radically different. We’re not really going anywhere to speak of. We’re definitely not going anywhere with groups of other people. So this week, when I went off for a trip to see my mum as a “bubble person”, I took great delight in putting on my “retro-happiness” playlist.
When this track appeared it cut right through into everything. I sang it word for word. I knew when the lyrical content started. (I can do a mean impression of a guitar solo actually too it turns out.) I sang more harmony than even PF dreamt up.
I can’t claim to understand it at all really. It’s typically Pink Floyd but it set me off thinking about what and who I was missing. Oh, and how I wished they were there. I knew exactly who in my life would relish a big sing to this track. Who would smile as soon as they heard the intro. Who would be playing their guitar along in their heads. Who, in that moment, I wished were in that car with me or indeed with me anywhere.
It set me off thinking about broken relationships, long-distance friendships, contact thwarted by lock-down and new things being stopped from flourishing. It made me think about all those people I wished were really really in my life. Right now. The people who see me and wish to be seen in return.
How I wish, how I wish you were here.
We’re just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl, year after year.
Running over the same old ground.
What have we found?
The same old fears.
Wish you were here.
It’s interesting to me that even the writers of this track – Roger Waters and Dave Gilmour – think it’s about different things. For the former it’s a song he sings to himself about being really present in his own life and for the latter it is, in reality, about the loss of a friend and fellow musician. So I think that gives us permission to read into it just what we like.
Being in real and right relationship with each other is what we are called to by God. Sometimes things don’t work out. Sometimes we only pretend. Sometimes we don’t know where to start. Sometimes it’s a click.
For me the reason for that is to remind ourselves that we are a people of community, distant or otherwise, and that it really is okay to need others. So go on – get in touch with someone you value and if they are long gone, allow yourself to be sad about missing them because their value to you and to God never diminishes.
Oh, for the record, we’re called to be in real and right relationship with people we don’t really “wish were here” too but that’s maybe a story for another day.
You can find out more about Pink Floyd here – https://www.pinkfloyd.com/home.php


