The other day, in the grocery store, I heard the Peaches and Herb song, Reunited. I am not crazy about that song, but there was a time (I am somewhat reluctant to admit) when I was. I used to listen to the radio waiting to hear it. (Remember when you used to have to do that? No instant downloads, no Pandora, no YouTube. We had to wait, sometimes hours, to hear our favorite songs. For some reason, it makes me a little sad that kids don’t have to do that anymore. I am occasionally struck by rogue nostalgia.)

Anyway, I heard the song in Safeway, and it took me right back to when I was a teenager and that song was popular. It came on one time when I was standing by Kevin, a boy on whom I had a mad (and completely unreciprocated) crush. Kevin was a rocker. Reunitied is so NOT a rocker song. Without thinking, I started to sing along, and Kevin looked at me like I was something he’d just scraped off his shoe. I stopped. I cleared my throat as if maybe he’d think that’s all I’d been doing from the start. (Which is not as foolish as it sounds. My singing voice is not unlike the sound of a throat being cleared.) I smiled. He looked away. My hopes of one day kissing Kevin were dashed.

Damn that song. And Kevin, for that matter. This post isn’t about them. It’s about how quickly I was taken back, how vivid the memory, which I hadn’t thought of for years. I marveled at the power of music. And, really, it’s not just music. When I hear baseball on a radio, it reminds me of my childhood. (My mom is a HUGE baseball fan. There was – and is – always a game on in her house.) Certain smells take me back, too – cut grass, pipe tobacco, empanada baking.

So I’m wondering, have you had that experience of being whisked away to a very specific moment in your past? What brought you there – a song? A smell? A familiar place? And, of course, you know how I play this game. If you’ve never experienced it at all, just tell me a musical story. Anything will do; I like to make it so everyone can play.

(Note to Steve: I changed your name to Kevin so no one would judge you for being such a meanie to me. You’re welcome.)