Looking down the street where my grandparents once lived, in Irvington, New Jersey along Prospect Avenue. August 1978
One of my favorite record albums is entitled "The First 15 Years" by folksinger Judy Collins, issued by Elektra/ Asylum in 1977 just before I left the East Coast to live in Arizona. I believe this set of recordings is one of Judy's best collections, one which showcases her tremendous growth as an artist and a weaver of musical ideas. I still have a turntable to play LP's, although today's technology naturally favors the convenience of CD's instead of the "Plattenwechsler" or automatic Garrard or Dual record players we enjoyed back in the 1960's. Judy's voice sounds so fine on songs such as "So Early, Early in the Spring," "Pretty Saro," "Golden Apples of the Sun," "Since You've Asked," "Holly Ann," and "Secret Gardens." It is this last song which captivates my attention here, one which is worth a closer inspection.
Seeing Lyrics as Personal Reflections
Judy captures the essence of the above photograph when she sings "Secret gardens of the heart where flowers bloom forever." Judy mentions that things have changed at her grandmother's house, and she wishes that others "could see what I see." She sees images of the "people I knew long ago. Inside the old kitchen they bend and they sigh. My life passed them up and the world in its way passed them by." Yet despite all these changes amidst the revolution of time, Judy envisions "Secret gardens of the heart where the old stay young forever." So sweetly and endearingly does Judy capture this passage of time that the listener is allowed to reminisce briefly at the places we once visited and the relatives we once knew so well.
On this Street and In the House I Remember
My grandparents bought their house in 1943 and lived on this street for many years. As a child I remember playing in the back yard, enjoying the front porch, walking down the steps to the basement, and looking at all the windows upstairs and downstairs. There was a coal fireplace and a coal bin until the conversion to oil took place sometime around the late 1950's or early 1960's. When the coal fireplace was functioning, the steam radiators made lots of noise and took a long time to heat the house. My grandfather had to get up at 4:00 AM to start the fire. The spent ashes had to be brought to the street for pickup, quite a heavy task. When you opened the front door to the fireplace, you were blasted with the most incredible glowing picture of bright orange you've ever seen. The ceilings in the house were made of plaster and were very high, probably at least 10 or 11 feet tall, allowing music to blossom in the living room and the dining room, where large windows bathed the rooms with magical light. Here I learned the beginnings of music by listening to my grandfather play his violin, piano, mandolin or harmonica. I saw the seasons change here and heard the street sweeper making his rounds with a mechanical device to brush clean the neighborhood debris. Olympic Park was just two or three blocks away down 38th Street and up Chancellor Avenue. As Judy sings in her song, these recollections evoke a nostalgic series of reminiscences, yet we naturally recognize the evolution of time which she calls "Secret gardens of the heart where the seasons change forever."
Seeing Lyrics as Personal Reflections
Judy captures the essence of the above photograph when she sings "Secret gardens of the heart where flowers bloom forever." Judy mentions that things have changed at her grandmother's house, and she wishes that others "could see what I see." She sees images of the "people I knew long ago. Inside the old kitchen they bend and they sigh. My life passed them up and the world in its way passed them by." Yet despite all these changes amidst the revolution of time, Judy envisions "Secret gardens of the heart where the old stay young forever." So sweetly and endearingly does Judy capture this passage of time that the listener is allowed to reminisce briefly at the places we once visited and the relatives we once knew so well.
On this Street and In the House I Remember
My grandparents bought their house in 1943 and lived on this street for many years. As a child I remember playing in the back yard, enjoying the front porch, walking down the steps to the basement, and looking at all the windows upstairs and downstairs. There was a coal fireplace and a coal bin until the conversion to oil took place sometime around the late 1950's or early 1960's. When the coal fireplace was functioning, the steam radiators made lots of noise and took a long time to heat the house. My grandfather had to get up at 4:00 AM to start the fire. The spent ashes had to be brought to the street for pickup, quite a heavy task. When you opened the front door to the fireplace, you were blasted with the most incredible glowing picture of bright orange you've ever seen. The ceilings in the house were made of plaster and were very high, probably at least 10 or 11 feet tall, allowing music to blossom in the living room and the dining room, where large windows bathed the rooms with magical light. Here I learned the beginnings of music by listening to my grandfather play his violin, piano, mandolin or harmonica. I saw the seasons change here and heard the street sweeper making his rounds with a mechanical device to brush clean the neighborhood debris. Olympic Park was just two or three blocks away down 38th Street and up Chancellor Avenue. As Judy sings in her song, these recollections evoke a nostalgic series of reminiscences, yet we naturally recognize the evolution of time which she calls "Secret gardens of the heart where the seasons change forever."
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