The first time I heard Vienna by Billy Joel, I was with my dad in his dirty Jeep Grand Cherokee, sitting in the passenger seat. The lyrics floated through the air in the car and wandered out of the open windows. My dad was on a quest on that summer afternoon to introduce me to some of his favorite songs, and Vienna was part of the playlist. We were driving home, and we sat in silence allowing Joel’s verses to resonate without interruption.
Paying attention to the sound of the accordion and piano, I noticed the present moment felt like a foreign movie with subtitles that pulled me in more than a movie done in English because it took some more time to understand, though the song is indeed in English and completely without translation. Still, in a similar way to those foreign films, its simple and packed language gave no other option but for the listener to unpack it through their own perception. So, through my gaze, Vienna first seemed like a metaphor, a message to the young and aging people of the world that a place of peace and joy steadily approached, and that perhaps Vienna meant Heaven. I thought of Heaven constantly at the time, and through the fear I had that I might never get there, I lived in terror of the torturous afterlife that would await me. Due to this fear, I read into the song as a piece of art that reflected a religious or spiritual dilemma. Also, as my dad was a religious man, I wondered if he might have shown it to me to connect me to prayer or visualization through music.
However, as the song went on, I took Vienna to be the place Joel promised the listener through his words. It was a place of beautiful nature, architecture, food, and adventure, perhaps meaning both the city of Vienna and the idea of the city made in the song. This was a place where the last thing to worry about was taking on more than you could handle. In the Vienna Joel promised, all you were asked to do was be. It was something much more potent and grounded in the present than I first thought. I realized I could reach Vienna as I sat there in the leather seat, completely free to be exactly who I wanted to be and who I was meant to be, without judgement.
I let one tear, then two, fall out of my right eye, the one out of my dad’s sight. When a tear started to well in my left eye, I lifted up my hand to pretend to brush my hair behind my ear to whisk it away. I didn’t want my dad to ask me about what I thought or why I became emotional. I wanted to keep this striking moment to myself, and I wanted to preserve this experience, even though I knew he would never diminish my emotions. I wanted us each to take away what we felt in that moment for ourselves, and not tarnish the silence.
While listening to the song, I realized that as Joel said, I could get what I want, or just get old. I realized I only had so many hours in a day. I realized my panicked moments usually arose from no imminent danger. I realized that I could use my intelligence to calm my fear. And most importantly, I realized I wasn’t the only one who needed to hear that song. I realized everyone needed a reminder to reevaluate their priorities. I looked over at my dad and saw his kind, vulnerable expression, and how he kept a soft gaze on the road and a small smile on his stubbled face as he enjoyed the music. I thought it was beautiful that he shared that moment with me without asking for any validation in return.
During the car ride, Vienna became my favorite song. I wanted to love Vienna for my life, as a golden nugget of treasure. I wanted to understand for as long as I lived that there was always more coming towards me, that time would pass through me, and that I could only stay in the present moment and not reach helplessly for the future or past.
I thought after the car ride was over that I wanted to play it in the car, at my wedding, as I studied, and before I went to sleep. I wanted to sit in the driver’s seat of a car as an adult in the future and play the song for my child so that they might get some of what I gained from it. I wanted to mirror the calm and generous spirit of my dad, who gifted me Vienna by Billy Joel that day.
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