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Robin Farr

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Rocky Mountain Home

Posted: 02/12/2013 11:51 pm

John Denver made me move back to Alberta.

Not literally, of course, because he was dead by the time I returned to Calgary. But I hold him responsible, even though the Rockies he sang about were not my Rockies.

I was born in Calgary, where I lived until I was five, at which time my family moved to the west coast. My dad was sick of the winters in Alberta, and Victoria was a much more appealing part of the country.

I grew up near beaches and had a love affair with tide pools. I spent hours turning over rocks to watch tiny crabs scramble and will always carry with me the sensation of poking the squishy centre of an anemone and having it close around my fingertip. My childhood was scented with the tang of salt water.

I remember a time when sand dollars covered Vancouver Island's beaches. I can picture them, scattered beneath the gentle waves of a low tide, and I know better than to bring them home. My mother was not a fan of the smell of dead sand dollars.

Alberta, by contrast, doesn't live in my memory as a smell; it exists as a song.

When I was young, my parents listened to John Denver as we drove to our cabin in the Rockies. I grew up listening to Rocky Mountain High and though by then the Rockies were no longer home I always thought of them that way.

Upon hearing the opening guitar notes, my breath catches every time.

He was born in the summer of his 27th year
Comin' home to a place he'd never been before

I was 36, not 27, and it was winter rather than summer, but I did come home.

My husband - himself an Alberta boy - and I had always talked about moving back. I honestly never thought we would, but suddenly I was ready.

I was excited about moving but anxious about the unknown. And then one day as I was packing up our house, iTunes served me up some faith.

I hear her voice, in the morning hour she calls me
The radio reminds me of my home far away
And drivin' down the road I get the feeling
That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday

And I knew. It was time to go home.


Rocky Mountain High lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

 

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09:48 PM on 02/16/2013
"the Rockies he sang about were not my Rockies" Umm yes they are. They don't end at the border.
04:44 PM on 02/19/2013
You know what I mean. Or maybe you don't. Of course they're physically the same, but that's not the point.
05:21 PM on 02/15/2013
Made me cry. Evocative post.
11:04 PM on 02/15/2013
Oh sorry. I should have warned you about this one. :)
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Alison Lee Bakush
Blogger, Freelance Writer, Social Media Consultant
07:05 PM on 02/14/2013
That's just wonderful, Robin. To hear the call of home, and heed it.
11:05 PM on 02/15/2013
Thanks, Alison. I'm so glad I did. I spent years worrying I'd be too scared to ever do it.
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Erin Chrusch
11:30 AM on 02/14/2013
My dad has always been a huge John Denver fan and his songs - so many of them - have been the soundtrack to much of my life. A few weeks ago when I was home to celebrate the life of my uncles, we sang Take Me Home Country Roads and just this morning I was singing this very part of the song and thinking about my family. Maybe it's why Calgary feels like home too.
11:05 PM on 02/15/2013
Yep. That's just it. :)
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Kristin Shaw
09:50 AM on 02/14/2013
Lovely, evocative words! I don't want to move back to my hometown, but I do love visiting - it's where my parents live and it's where my young heart lives. My adult heart is here, in Texas.
11:06 PM on 02/15/2013
So nice to have that feeling of home, isn't it? Wherever it may be.
09:23 AM on 02/14/2013
Oh, I just love this. I love John Denver - just reading those lyrics gave me goosebumps (and made me want to crank up the iTunes when I get home today). And it made me ache for my own hometown to which I'd love to move back someday, maybe, when it's logistically feasible.

Beautiful piece, Robin.
11:06 PM on 02/15/2013
Thanks, Kristin! So glad to know another John Denver fan. I love his music, unabashedly.