Just like music

  In 1983, Def Leppard released the multi-platinum album Pyromania, and 11-year-old me’s favorite song was “Rock of Ages.” Not having a job and unwilling to ask anyone to purchase the album or tape for me, the only way to hear “Rock of Ages” was to wait near the radio with my cassette deck ready to record — and that was usually during the station’s Top Three at Nine. I believe one night I must have called in dozens of times just so “Rock of Ages” could land at number one.

Fast forward to today. Last night I went to see the new Zendaya movie The Drama. I heard a song I enjoyed, searched for it on Spotify, and then stumbled onto a story that stopped me: the artist, Shira Small, recorded an album at 17, then stepped away, became a physician’s assistant, and now at 70, her music is making a comeback — and maybe so is she.

There’s something in both of those stories that I keep turning over. A kid camped next to a radio, willing to wait and dial and wait again for one song. A woman who set her music down for decades and picked it back up at 70 like it had been waiting for her all along. Access looks different now — I found Shira Small in about 45 seconds — but the hunger that makes you seek something out hasn’t changed. And neither, apparently, has the music that was always yours to make.

Some things don’t expire. They just wait.

What’s something you set down a long time ago that might still be waiting for you to pick it back up?