Shelly Hickman

Bittersweetness is a tendency to states of long­ing, poignancy, and sorrow; an acute aware­ness of passing time; and a curiously piercing joy at the beauty of the world. It recognizes that light and dark, birth and death—bitter and sweet—are forever paired. – Susan Cain, Bittersweet

Several months ago I read Bittersweet by Susan Cain. The topic intrigued me because I immediately identified with the above description, for I’ve long been someone who is easily moved to tears – not only by feelings of sadness but also experiences of joy, connection, and beauty. Such moments have made me feel quite lame when they happen in the presence of others, but Cain’s exploration and discussion of this tendency made me feel a bit less lame.

Regardless of our natural disposition, I think bittersweetness is something many of us experience more frequently in our later years. It comes with that acute awareness of passing time as we lose grandparents, parents, siblings, and friends. As we watch our children grow into adults and become parents themselves. Even losing beloved celebrities from our youth or time spent contemplating how much the world has changed can trigger feelings of melancholy.

It’s not unusual for music to draw us back to a certain time or spark an emotional response, and this happened to me with a song that recently popped onto my radar in my socials. When I pulled it up on YouTube to listen in its entirety, I was blindsided by the reaction it stirred in me, forty plus years after first hearing it. I have no special connection to the song, and it wasn’t a massive hit or widely known.

So what is it? The lyrics? Instrumentals? Cinematography? Maybe it’s a combination of all three. (By the way, the lyrics are gorgeous so I included them at the end of this post.) Though I remember the video as a teen, liking the song and admiring how beautiful Diane Lane was, I can only guess that my 16-year-old self couldn’t possibly appreciate its delivery in the same way as my 58-year-old self.

Then two minutes and fifty seconds in, the vocals break to make way for the culminating, iconic synth instrumentals that were so emblematic of the 80s. I swear it doesn’t matter how many times I listen. Whenever the song reaches this climax, my breath catches in my chest, my eyes tear, and my throat tightens with emotion. At the same time, I nearly laugh at the absurdity.

Clearly, there’s something about the packaging that hits me in the feels every time. Maybe fellow Gen-Xers will relate. 

The message. The vibe. The presentation. This song triggers the bittersweet. 

I’ve been chewing on this feeling since that experience, trying to find the words to express it. Then… Dolly.

Ughhhhh, Dolly!

I cried for three days after the news of her passing. My feeds have been full of Dolly content and nearly every time I saw another post, out came the waterworks.

Another completely unexpected response. I have never been a country music fan. I never played Dolly records growing up. But damn it, it’s Dolly! Whether or not her music meant something to you, she was a significant presence in pop culture if you grew up in the 70s and 80s. Big hair, big smile, big personality, and one of the biggest, most generous and gracious hearts we will likely see in our lifetime. She was just one of those souls I truly believed would reach the century mark before leaving us.

There’s a lovely quote from Ted Lasso (my now favorite show) that comes to mind upon Dolly’s passing:

It’s funny to think about the things in your life that can make you cry just knowing that they existed, can then become the same things that make you cry knowing that they’re now gone. I think those things come into our lives to help us get from one place to a better one. 

I think that’s how we feel about Dolly. In this chaotic, uncertain, and often belligerent world we now find ourselves, everyone loved her because she was a living example of how we should all strive to be.

Bittersweet. It recognizes that light and dark, birth and death—bitter and sweet—are forever paired.

As we grow older, we incur more of these losses. On Facebook I regularly see friends losing a parent, a sibling, a friend. It’s these consistent reminders that create a keen awareness of life’s impermanence, an awareness we don’t have when we’re young.

After taking some time to examine my bittersweet moments, I decided I shouldn’t be so quick to call them lame. Somehow they make life fuller. Make me more connected to a world that often feels so disconnected. And strangely, they make me more mindful of all I have to be grateful for – in my present and past.

Tonight is What It Means to be Young

I've got a dream 'bout an angel on the beach
And the perfect waves are starting to come
His hair is flying out in ribbons of gold
And his touch has got the power to stun

I've got a dream 'bout an angel in the forest
Enchanted by the edge of a lake
His body's flowing in the jewels alive
And the earth below is starting to shake

But I don't see any angels in the city
I don't hear any holy choirs sing
And if I can't get an angel
I can still get a boy
And a boy'll be the next best thing
The next best thing to an angel
A boy'll be the next best thing

I've got a dream 'bout a boy in a castle
And he's dancing like a cat on the stairs
He's got the fire of a prince in his eyes
And the thunder of a drum in his ears

I've got a dream 'bout a boy on a star
Lookin' down upon the rim of the world
He's there all alone and dreamin' of someone like me
I'm not an angel but at least I'm a girl

I've got a dream when the darkness is over
We'll be lyin' in the rings of the sun
But it's only a dream and tonight is for real
You'll never know what it means
But you'll know how it feels
It's gonna be over
Before you know it's begun

It's all we really got tonight
Stop your cryin' hold on (tonight)
Before you know it it's gone (tonight)
Tonight is what it means to be young
Tonight is what it means to be young

Let the revels begin
Let the fire be started
We're dancing for the restless and the broken-hearted
Let the revels begin
Let the fire be started
We're dancing for the desperate and the broken-hearted

Say a prayer in the darkness for the magic to come
'Cause no matter what it seems
Tonight is what it means to be young

-- Written by Jim Steinman