I came to appreciate Bob Seger late in life; 2005 to be exact. It wasn’t like I’d never heard his music before, having spent two years spinning records as a travelling deejay. Without fail, someone in the crowd needed to hear “Old Time Rock & Roll” if they were in the mood to party, or “Night Moves” if they wanted to cuddle on the dancefloor. Bob had plenty of recognizable hits, all with his tough guy, been-around-the-block vocals. So I was well aware of who Seger was, but I could never relate to his bravado.
That changed when I hit my 50th birthday in ‘05. There’s something about crossing the half-century mark that can make a person stop and look at life. It’s a time to consider what we’ve achieved and, more importantly, what needs our attention before it’s too late. I had no problem identifying my major sticking point: I’d never completely accepted myself as a gay man. I even had a joke about it, telling friends that I’d been in and out of the closet so many times I should install a revolving door. Back and forth I’d go, first being OK with who I was and then ashamed. Finally, at fifty, I’d had enough.
As usual, music was my counsel and comfort as I considered my fifty-year-old self. For reasons I’m not quite sure of, Seger’s music was calling to me. Maybe I needed that edge in his voice, his “I don’t give a damn what other people think.” At any rate, as a nod to my conviction to be exactly who I am, I bought Seger’s greatest hits album and struck gold with its opening track, “Roll Me Away.”
A minor hit, I’d never heard “Roll Me Away” before and its pleasing piano intro didn’t sound like anything I’d associated with Seger. I was in unexpected musical territory and, more importantly, unprepared for where his lyrics would take me.
“Took a look down a westbound road,
right away I made my choice
Headed out to my big two-wheeler,
I was tired of my own voice…”
Tired of my own voice. Seger had my attention. A few lines later, his drummer kick-started the song’s forward motion and his piano player went honky-tonk. We were back in familiar Seger territory. Bob continued his story.
“Twelve hours out of Mackinaw City
stopped in a bar to have a brew
Met a girl and we had a few drinks
and I told her what I'd decided to do…”
I got a little hung up with the bar scene and the girl, but, thankfully, I hung in there because by the time Seger got to his first chorus, I was ready to hop on back of his bike:
“Roll me away,
won't you roll me away tonight
I’m lost, I feel double-crossed
and I'm sick of what's wrong and what's right…”
I couldn’t have agreed more. I was sick, too; physically, emotionally and spiritually. Sick of what locking myself in a closet had done to my first fifty years. But tired as I was with my old life, I couldn’t figure out why I was so enthralled with this song about a biker’s journey. I’ve never been much of a traveler by any means of transportation. As a card carrying introvert who prefers the comfort of home, I’ve never wanted to head off and explore the unknown. So why did I feel my heart soar with “Roll Me Away”? Seger’s second stanza helped answer my question:
“Somewhere along a high road
the air began to turn cold
She said she missed her home
I headed on alone…”
One thing my half-century had taught me was that figuring out who we are and where we’re heading is often done alone. We turn down the noise of the world and listen to the wise voice within. We figure out our own road.
“Stood alone on a mountaintop,
starin' out at the Great Divide
I could go east, I could go west,
it was all up to me to decide…”
Bob’s sage advice was plenty for me to chew on, but he’d saved his best wisdom for last. The music crescendoed and he shared it as only Seger can:
“Gotta keep rollin, gotta keep ridin',
keep searchin' till I find what's right
And as the sunset faded
I spoke to the faintest first starlight and said next time…”
To make sure I was listening, Bob screamed his conclusion:
“…next time,
we'll get it right!”
My fifty-year-old heart was pumping hard. As the piano trailed off to wherever the road would lead, I imagined myself grabbing the handles of that bike and taking off for…well… where? It didn’t matter; I was certain I wanted to be somewhere—or was it someone?—else.
I haven’t done a lot of traveling since first hearing “Roll Me Away.” I still prefer laying my head on my own pillow at the end of a day. But since having the good fortune of meeting up with Seger’s song, my second set of fifty years has been a whole different trip. Being who I am has made going to the grocery store an adventure, because living in the world is not about seeing things I’ve never seen before; it’s about showing up for life as the full human being that I am.
? Is there a song that pointed you in a better direction ?