Soundtracks by Jason Stout

I'm a big fan of movie soundtracks. Not the soundtracks that purists probably like with 70 minutes of freshly composed orchestral music that works solely as the background for the action in the movie. Instead, I like the soundtracks that feature songs from a wide variety of singers - some well known, others not - and genres. If nothing else, it's a cheap way to get introduced to a lot of different music.

One of my favorites is for the movie Sleepless in Seattle with Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks. The movie itself did great at the box office, but the soundtrack sold on its own as well. The soundtrack has a lot of old standards like "Stardust" by Nat King Cole and "A Kiss to Build a Dream On" by Louis Armstrong. But it also has a few classic rock ballads like "Bye Bye Blackbird" by Joe Crocker. It also has one of my all-time favorites: "A Wink and a Smile" by Harry Connick, Jr.

The most interesting song, though, is "As Time Goes By" by Jimmy Durante. His voice has a low, craggy, compelling quality and it's almost like he's saying the words instead of singing them. I'm here to tell you, you've never heard "As Time Goes By" until you've heard it by Jimmy Durante.

Music, in fact, has become so prevalent now with iPods and other mp3 players, not to mention "old-school" CD players, that we never seem to be too far from it. We can almost always guarantee some tune playing in the background wherever we are and places like Starbucks now make a mint selling music with their lattes. We've also seen the rise of the "mix-tape" era, where industrious people (OK, I'll give into the stereotype of the grumpy old man and say it - kids) spend hours of their lives perfecting the essential mix or combination of songs for any and all occasions. Constructing a good quality mix-tape for someone is considered quite the gift these days.

And so life, it seems, is just not complete without our very own running soundtracks. Our music culture has even sparked the popular party question for college students: what would be on the soundtrack of your life? You get extra points for envisioning an eclectic mix of songs from obscure, but intensely profound, singer-songwriters. I've never given the question much thought, but maybe I should.

The problem is that my soundtrack would vary so tremendously depending on what part of my life I'm trying to capture. There was a point early on - maybe through my mid-20s - where the only thing on my soundtrack would be peppy, upbeat pop songs. Maybe "Shiny, Happy People" by R.E.M. Or "Relax" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood.

For some reason, during this time in my life I believed nothing could go wrong. I was ridiculously confident that everything would always work out. The only two things required were perspective and time. I had in my way an absolute complete "faith" that I was taken care of. This, of course, flew in the face of reality in many ways: my parent's divorce when I was 5, for example, or my best friend's death from Leukemia when I was a teenager. Even in the light of these things I always felt comforted that any pain or heartache would be short-lived.

Even in those times, I believed I was blessed with uncanny good luck. I would forget to study for a test and the teacher would unexpectedly be absent from school giving me a reprieve. I would bomb a test and the teacher would decide after the fact that the test shouldn't count toward our final grades after all. I would procrastinate on writing a term paper and at the last minute pull something out of . . . the hat and get an A.

When I told people not to worry because things would "work out," I would always be asked how I knew that so confidently. My answer: "Well, they always have for me. Why would things change now?"

I had a story (true even) to reinforce this notion.

My wife (before she was my wife) and I were attending the same college--Indiana University. We were driving around in my tired, sad 1985 gray Chevy Cavalier we had nicknamed "Gertie." We were near campus and I noticed that I was almost out of gas. This was before "low fuel sensors" so if you were like me and lived on the edge, you had to know how accurate your fuel gauge really was. I was certain that we had almost no gas and needed to get to a gas station as soon as possible.

The nearest gas station required us to drive up a slight rise then down a long hill. The bottom of the hill ended in a "T" and there was a stoplight there. After turning left at the "T," the gas station was a few hundred yards down the road and on the right.

I headed up the rise, fearing that Gertie would conk out any minute. It didn't; it made it up the rise! But, on the other side, as we started to go down the long hill, it finally gave out. I put the car in neutral and we started coasting. I knew that if the light at the bottom of the hill were red I would have to stop and, after it turned green, get out of the car and push us down the road to the station. As we neared the bottom of the hill, reminiscent of Moses parting the Red Sea, all cars and other impediments miraculously exited out of the way. The light turned green at exactly the right moment and we coasted through the intersection, turning to the left.

Now we had a couple of hundred yards to go and that was a lot of coasting to do after taking that 90 degree turn. We started slowing down. We eased up to the station. I turned in and the nearest pump to the road was free. I crawled to a stop right in front of the pump. Perfect.

If there had been one more car on the road at the wrong place, it wouldn't have worked. If the light at the bottom of the hill had been red, it most definitely would not have worked. If the right pump had not been available, it may not have worked. Everything simply lined up. It worked out for me because everything always worked out for me.

During this time, my soundtrack would have had to include every cheerful, chipper song ever written. The Monkees would feature heavily, as would the early Beatles.
But this "faith" I had wasn't based on anything. It wasn't a faith in God's words or in Jesus' presence or anything else real for that matter. It was simply an optimistic world-view that helped me avoid "sweating the small stuff."

Then, one day, it was gone. Something bad had happened. Something big, but not bigger than other bad things that had happened before (again, like my parents' divorce or Wes' death). For some reason, though, this time, things felt different. I wasn't just responsible for myself now. I was responsible for a family and I couldn't just count on "dumb luck" and "things have always worked in the past" to make me feel good about things. I was truly shaken to the core. I reached deep inside me and realized that my confidence - my faith - in my good fortune wasn't there and had been an illusion all along.

My soundtrack at this point in my life would have been as depressing as possible. Some good old country songs about lost love, missed chances, and by-gone dogs would have been in heavy rotation. Maybe some dark, moody songs by the Cure or the Smiths. No Motown. No catchy pop hooks. Just sad, miserable songs about sad, miserable people.

It wasn't until years later (thanks to my wife) that I finally opened up my life to a different faith. A faith that was actually built on something. A faith in God and Jesus. I'm no longer confident in my own luck or fortune. Instead, I'm confident that God is in control. I know that bad things happen - even some horrendous things - but I also know that God is in charge and is there to comfort me. It is liberating to not have to know things will "work out," because, in fact, they may not - at least not here on this Earth at this time. But ultimately and according to God's will things will always work out.

And now my soundtrack would sound completely different. It would probably feature Amazing Grace prominently. I was blind, but now I see and I could sing that all day long.

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