Time Passages

Whenever I think about time capsules (which honestly is not often), those boxes buried with mementos of the times, I think about what I would put into one. The contents change every time this thought comes around as what is important to me at the time changes.

For instance, back in seventh grade I would have put a pair of jeans with a side comb pocket and packages of blueberry Hubba Bubba.

Today, this morning, right now, if pressed at gunpoint or sharp object, I would place into a time capsule:
An empty twelver of Pabst Blue Ribbon
An Ikea catalogue
A Polaroid of one of the Pike’s Place Market fish throwing guys standing around with his hands in his pockets
A can of Crisco
A VHS copy of Two of a Kind with John Travolta and Olivia Newton John
An 8-track of The Best of Jim Croce

Jim Croce… Jim “Bad, Bad Leroy Brown” Croce… This guy just doesn’t seem like he should be a popular music star.


But these were the days before videos. And when a singer/songwriter dies in a plane crash in Natchitoches, Louisiana, people suddenly raise up their voices in praise. My dad was a huge Jim Croce fan; Bob Segar, Jimmy Buffet and The Eagles as well. My dad has, shall we say, an eclectic taste in shitty music.

I do remember him saying once, while driving to Bremerton as a child with Jim Croce’s Time In A Bottle playing, that it sounded like Mr. Croce knew he was going to die when he sang that song. This is a comment I have always held onto for some reason. A plainly stated comment that fit the musical mood, a quiet moment where my dad expressed the emotions he got from a song.

Yeah Jim Croce’s alright. You Don’t Mess Around With Jim is a pretty decent song, and even the schmaltzy Time In A Bottle gives me a little tear.

Jimmy Buffet though, can lick my balls.