I slipped into the bucket seats of the Mazda3 Time Machine this morning. Lush sound waves lapped from the speakers just as I hit the Haws River Bridge, when the flux capacitor kicked in; it was an odd soundtrack to accompany the spacetime jump and, yet, perfect all the same, reminding me of both the Dusty Springfield and Byrds versions of Goffin-King’s classic “Goin’ Back.” In a blink, I found myself in the neighborhood of my youth, where we teens bounced off parked cars while playing football in the street.
The late 1970s and early ‘80s were a time of spiraling inflation and backyard gardens, of raises that never kept up and horseradish that expanded through suburban enclaves like the invasive species it is. My folks harvested lettuce, string beans, tomatoes and more on their small plot of land, thrilled to avoid high grocery bills and happier still just to till the earth, horseradish be damned. It was a perfect escape from the daily pressures they faced.
I return to those years quite often, these days. A piece of music, such as “We Must Be in Love,” rolls from the speakers and carries me away. No matter their worries and concerns, my parents were good at shielding us kids. Allowances were missed, vacations were week-long stays with relatives or, more often than not, day trips to this or that amusement park. We always had fun. We always had love.
Singer-songwriter Lea Thomas, who was born and raised in Maui but now calls New York’s Upper Hudson Valley home, shares the gentle reverberations of her soul on her forthcoming Cosmos Forever album, which is slated to be released on September 20. The second single, “We Must Be in Love,” is a seven minute work of art. The press release quotes her as saying, “It’s a love song. It could be a love song for anyone or anything but for me, it has become a love note to the cosmos, to this earth, to the places that shaped my life, and especially for the island of Maui in Hawai’i, where I grew up. I like to think that true love has a way of slowing down time so you can ‘let yourself be happy.’”
The video, which she shot herself, captures the song’s spirit. She explains, “The video features 8mm footage of wild waters, flowers and friends from excursions around the island when I was home for a visit. My only intention was to share a spark of the love that the land has inspired in me over all these years.” She also recounts the tragedy that befell the area: “A few months later, unprecedented and devastating fires swept through old Lahaina town on the West side of Maui, bringing most of a precious historic town to ruins. It is difficult to overstate how deeply this tragedy was felt throughout the island community. But as neighbors came together around this disaster, through the shock and grief, I could also feel the love of the land connecting us all. This song is an ode to that kind of love—a love as resilient as the land itself.”
Somewhere on my messy desk I possess an SD card (or possibly thumb drive) filled with Super 8 movies that I digitized a year ago. I filmed them in the late 1970s, when I was in 8th and 9th grades, and they include footage of my mom and dad toiling in their garden, watering it, doing this, doing that. Some plants are as tall as my mom, who stood a little more than five feet. When or if I come across the files again, I plan to stitch them together with photos from the same timespan and use “We Must Be in Love” as the soundtrack. It may be new, but it has an old spirit—as does Cosmos Forever. I’ve preordered the album in full. You should, too.
The Old Grey Cat 
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