My Gen X Playlist: Behind the Wall – Tracy Chapman

A Graceful Life wrote a post about her home of twenty years. She never intended to stay that long, life helped make that decision for her. I liked how she described the little things that made her house a home.

when i look back, i see so many small moments that made this place ours: sunlight hitting the living room floor just right in the morning, the squeak of the stairs at midnight, christmas mornings, ordinary tuesdays, sleepy dogs underfoot.

She included many photos of her wonderful home. My favorite was a wall that kept track of her children’s height. It reminded me of my own childhood.

My parents lined us up and kept a similar wall at our house. Four kids, tons of pencil marks, dates and names. I remember my parents placing a book on our heads as we straightened our backs against the wall. Pencil scratches memorialized our hopeful growth spurts and more importantly, created yet another string that tied a connection of our family. My oldest brother was always there to make sure nobody cheated and stood on their toes. No tippy toes, we would say.

When my two older brothers occasionally exerted their “loving brotherly” power over me, my grandmother would always warn them that there would come a day when I was going to be bigger than them. I used to think it was an amusing threat. It became even funnier when that day actually arrived. It’s all documented right there with pencil scratches etched on that wall.

Over the years we all grew up and that wall was easily forgotten. Our family grew, giving my parents six grandchildren. They eventually discovered the penciled timeline and wanted their heights recorded on the same wall as well. Same rules. Backs straight. Books on heads. Pencil scratches with names and dates. Oh, and no tippy toes. It was fun to see their histories intertwined with ours.

My mom once told the grandkids she’d give them a hundred bucks if they ever grew taller than her. She first told the oldest granddaughter in jest when she was a tiny little child. But the size of her memory eclipsed her tiny stature and as she grew older, she kept reminding grandma of the wager. Eventually the cat was out of the bag and all the grandkids wanted in on the action. One by one, my mom has kept her end of the bargain and settled up. There is only one granddaughter left. It wouldn’t surprise me if she became a hundred bucks richer this year.

My nieces and nephews now range between 15 and 25 years old. All still young with their lives ahead of them. Maybe one day when they start their families, their kids will run through the old house and stumble upon our family wall. And hopefully they’ll feel that pull to line up and add their names to our history book. Even if some of the names and ages slowly fade, they never are erased from our home. Pencil markings fade, but the spirit of our family always remain. With each line, name and date, another string is gently woven into our family home, one generation at a time.

I searched for songs about walls, hoping to find an uplifting song about home and family. Turns out, I couldn’t find any that met my blog’s simple playlist criteria: a) I know the song and b) I like the song. Instead, here is Tracy Chapman’s Behind the Wall. I always liked this a capella song, but always thought how sad the song was.

The song voices the anguish of a hypothetical neighbour, who listened, behind the wall, to the episode of domestic violence occurred next door during the night.

Medium

I remember the first time I heard this song after playing the CD front to back. It was such a powerful tract, I had to listen to it a few more times. I initially hesitated to use this song because the content is so different from the feel of the blog post. But as in life, there are different stories to tell, not every one the same. This song is a reminder that not everyone has fond memories of the walls they lived in. Now, as I write this post, I have a deeper appreciation for how truly fortunate my childhood really was. It’s too easy to take it for granted. I certainly don’t anymore.

–

For a complete playlist, please click here.

For the Spotify playlist, please click here.

Last night I heard the screaming
Loud voices behind the wall
Another sleepless night for me
It won't do no good to call
The police always come late
If they come at all

And when they arrive
They say, "they can't interfere
With domestic affairs,
Between a man and his wife."
And as they walk out the door
The tears well up in her eyes

Last night I heard the screaming
Then a silence that chilled my soul
I prayed that I was dreaming
When I saw the ambulance in the road
And the policeman said,
"I'm here to keep the peace."
Will the crowd disperse
I think we all could use some sleep"