WSPC'S MUSICAL MEMORIES: "LEARNING TO FLY" BY TOM PETTY AND THE HEARTBREAKERS

"LEARNING TO FLY"

from the album "INTO THE GREAT WIDE OPEN" (album released July 2, 1991)

single released April 1991

Produced by Jeff Lynne with Tom Petty and Mike Campbell 

TOM PETTY AND THE HEARTBREAKERS:

Tom Petty: Lead Vocals, Backing Vocals, Rhythm Guitars, Percussion

Mike Campbell: Lead Guitars, Baritone Guitars, Bass Guitar, Keyboards

Stan Lynch: Drums and Percussion

Benmont Tench: Electric and Upright Piano

Howie Epstein: Backing and Harmony Vocals, Bass Guitar

with

Jeff Lynne: Guitars, Bass Guitar, Keyboards and Backing Vocals 

Have you ever had a musical moment where the music you were listening to connected with absolutely everything, internally and externally and with such complete serendipity that every time you hear the song, you are instantly taken back to a time and place?

On May 19, 1991, I graduated from college. In a series of events that now seems to have occurred all at the same time, I received my diploma, I had immediately moved from my treasured Lakeshore dormitory room into my then girlfriend's apartment with her three roommates who were increasingly growing resentful of my presence, and even more precariously, my girlfriend and I shared a graduation meal with members of our respective families, most notably, my furious parents who were convinced that I was indeed throwing my life away by remaining in Madison, WI for love and not returning to Chicago, IL for practicality, as well as satisfying their wishes for me. 

I graduated from the University Of Wisconsin-Madison with two BA degrees in English and Communication Arts and completely without any ideas whatsoever about what I wanted to do with my life. Yes, I housed dreams of becoming a filmmaker but I was realistic enough to know that those sorts of dreams are more than difficult enough to realize even when planned for and passionately pursued, and especially moreso when living completely out of the Hollywood spotlight or even close to the industry in say, New York. And furthermore, I had no desires to uproot myself for places such as those at all. 

I carried romantic notions of living the "Artist's Life," whatever that happened to be. but I was also practical enough to know that I did indeed need to survive and since relations between myself and my parents were strained and would only grow to become even more estranged for a period, I felt a near supernatural need to prove their fears entirely wrong. Additionally, and for more pop cultural information to bring to you, this was the time in our world's history where my generation would soon be referred to as the seemingly apathetic "Generation X," a term and quality that no one of my generation (that I knew at least) ever embraced because, hey, we needed to eat and pay our bills too. We just wanted to find some meaningful and individualistic ways to accomplish that feat.

While the notion of somehow sharing whatever it was that I had learned with younger people was just a germ of an idea (and perhaps that was a bit of foreshadowing to my current occupation as a preschool teacher), the idea of being a Professor never took hold and the idea of returning to the academic life just caused a sense of anxiety and displeasure. I had always told myself that I would not ever fully count out the possibility of Graduate School, it was something that I carried not even one desire. Essentially, I was fairly certain about all of the things that I didn't want but I was unsure as to exactly what I wanted aside from living with the girl I had fallen in love with during my Junior year of college. 

On the Monday after my college graduation, with school a thing of the past and my obligations to my parents severed, I exited my new (yet temporary) apartment with my well loved Schwinn ten speed bike in tow (R.I.P.) to begin my morning journey. I was gearing myself up to return to my position working as a student staff member of the Memorial Library staff on the college campus although I was fully unaware that since I was a graduate, I could not, in all honesty, work as student staff any longer. (Thankfully, some supervisors casually looked the other way and I covertly continued my employment for most of that summer while I simultaneously pounded the pavement.) As I hopped upon my bike, I, of course, had my trusty cassette player headset with me and that morning, I had inserted the cassette single of the (then) brand new Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers single, "Learning To Fly." The instant I pressed PLAY, every emotion and every element that surrounded me forged together into an inseparable connection that was pure and unadulterated perfection.

The gleaming wall of acoustic guitar strums merged blissfully with the Spring breezes that kissed my face and blew the leaves peacefully. As Tom Petty began to sing, his benevolent voice, combined with the way the sun shone that early morning and the happiness I saw in the faces of all of the people I passed, felt like the Universe's most gracious sign informing me that maybe this wrenching decision to just take a risk in my life and remain in Madison for love would pay off in a healthy reward one day. Stan Lynch's "Ringo-esque" drumming set the pace, the fullness of the Heartbreakers' groove pushed me along and kept me on track. and once the harmony vocals arrived, I truly felt as if I was home. 

That feeling of comfort and familiar security must have been due to Jeff Lynne's production as his songwriting and studio wonderment in the Electric Light Orchestra was an ever present sound in the jukebox of my childhood. And now, Lynne's trademark sonic qualities were combined with Tom Petty's wide eyed yet deeply wise and learned lyrics which often reflected the variety of emotions I was feeling at the age of 22 as I was taking my very first steps into the real world. 

"Well some say life will beat you down
Break your heart, steal your crown
So I've started out, for God knows where
I guess I'll know when I get there"

I think that section really said it all for me as I honestly had no idea of where my life was headed, what I wanted to do and where I even saw myself of ending up. In many ways, and even at this stage of my life, 22 years older, 15 years into a preschool teaching career and married to that very same girl I shared a shoe-box apartment with (alongside those aforementioned resentful roommates), I still really do not know who I want to be when I grow up. I think that is why "Learning To Fly," every single time I hear it, feels perfect, for then and for right now. It is a song of discovery. It is a song of questioning uncertainty. It is a song of rebirth, of the eternal child or ever evolving, seeking, travelling spirit.

It is a song of possibility. And as I rode my bicycle into my future 22 years ago, and even now as I sit here writing, whenever I hear this song, I feel that almost any possibilities can be realized.