It was the early-to-mid-nineties. My Adult-Contemporary side was shining in full-effect. Tina Turner was singing ‘I Don’t Wanna Fight’ and I was wishing for a relationship to salvage – hell, I just wanted a relationship to begin. Billy Joel was singing about mid-life dreams too, and though I was too young at the time to get all the layers of meaning, I knew the hook of a good pop song, and the universal search for meaning in the middle of the night.
As a teenager, I used to walk at all hours of the night, traipsing through the neighborhoods of Amsterdam and seeking out solace in the comfort of strangers I never saw. I could feel them though. I felt their presence. In the glowing reflections of a television set. The shadows passing through empty rooms. The lamp on the bedside table blinking good-night.
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, I GO WALKING IN MY SLEEP
FROM THE MOUNTAINS OF FAITH TO A RIVER SO DEEP
I MUST BE LOOKING FOR SOMETHING, SOMETHING SACRED I LOST
BUT THE RIVER IS WIDE, AND IT’S TOO HARD TO CROSS
All those early fall nights, the sticky and hazy evenings that still sometimes held heat and wetness – through which I passed like thick syrup – wove themselves into a fading ephemeral summer blanket that I would later pick up when the wind turned colder. At the time, when the heat stuck around well past the midnight hour, I walked with the easy freedom of a northeastern summer, in shorts and a shirt-sleeved shirt, padding quietly along the sidewalks and seeking out some kind of connection.
AND EVEN THOUGH I KNOW THE RIVER IS WIDE
I WALK DOWN EVERY EVENING AND I STAND ON THE SHORE
AND TRY TO CROSS TO THE OPPOSITE SIDE
SO I CAN FINALLY FIND WHAT I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR
The memory that accompanies this song must have occurred in my last summer at home, before going away to college. A bundle of nerves and apprehension, thrilling anticipation and vague dread, my heart was a riot. We hold such tumult in every year of our youth, and if we don’t even realize that, so much the better. I was uneasily more aware of such matters than most of my contemporaries. More serious and solemn about life. It made me as popular as it sounds.
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, I GO WALKING IN MY SLEEP
FROM THE MOUNTAINS OF FAITH TO A RIVER SO DEEP
I MUST BE LOOKING FOR SOMETHING, SOMETHING SACRED I LOST
BUT THE RIVER IS WIDE, AND IT’S TOO HARD TO CROSS
Thus I walked alone, and while never terribly bothered by it I sometimes wished for more. The sweet late-spring scents of perfumed trees had passed. All that remained was the ripe smell of leathery leaves, decomposing grass, and the heavy dour air that would soon be split by the first cold spell of fall.
I DON’T KNOW WHY I GO WALKING AT NIGHT
BUT NOW I’M TIRED AND I DON’T WANT TO WALK ANYMORE
I HOPE IT DOESN’T TAKE THE REST OF MY LIFE
UNTIL I FIND WHAT IT IS THAT I’VE BEEN LOOKING FOR…
IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT
