The Night Creedence Changed My Life #2

Dear Senior FM,

I’m sitting at the kitchen table as I write this, the morning light coming through the window, a familiar Creedence Clearwater Revival song drifting in from the radio. It still has a way of stopping me in my tracks. Some music never really leaves you. It just waits patiently until you’re ready to listen again.

I met the love of my life in the summer of 1969 at a CCR concert. It was one of those hot, noisy nights where everyone seemed to be searching for something, even if we didn’t quite know what that something was. The world felt uncertain back then, but the music made us feel steady, like we belonged to something bigger.

I went to the concert for the songs, not expecting anything more. Then I noticed her standing nearby, barefoot, holding her sandals, clapping along as if the music lived inside her. She wasn’t trying to be noticed. She was just there, fully present, and that caught my attention more than anything else.

During Proud Mary the crowd shifted and we bumped into each other. I apologized, and she laughed and said not to worry, that it was rock and roll. We started talking between songs, leaning close so we could hear one another. She told me about listening to the radio with her father on Sunday mornings. I told her how Creedence always reminded me of long drives and the feeling that life was still wide open.

When Have You Ever Seen the Rain came on, she grew quiet and sang softly to herself. Watching her in that moment, I felt something settle in my chest. I didn’t know how to explain it, only that I wanted to remember that feeling for the rest of my life.

After the concert, we walked together toward the parking lot, the crowd thinning out, our ears ringing, our feet tired. There were no phones, no photos, just conversation and laughter. I asked if I could see her again. She said yes, simply and without hesitation.

That yes turned into a marriage, a home, and a life built one ordinary day at a time. We raised two children, a daughter with her mother’s quiet strength and a son with my stubborn determination. There were hard years and joyful ones, moments when money was tight, moments when the house was loud and messy and full of life. We learned, we argued, we forgave, and we stayed.

Now we are grandparents to three lively, curious children who fill our home with noise whenever they visit. They like to tease me about my old music, and they laugh when I hum along to the radio. One day, I hope they understand why those songs matter so much.

These days our life is slower. We take walks in the evening, share the newspaper, and fall asleep to familiar melodies. Sometimes a Creedence song comes on and we look at each other and smile, both of us back in that crowd for just a moment, young and hopeful, not yet knowing how much love was waiting for us.

To my fellow Senior FM readers, if you ever find yourself wondering whether those small moments from long ago truly mattered, I can tell you they did. Some nights, some songs, some chance meetings stay with you forever. If you’re lucky, they grow into a lifetime.

Love Always,
Jon B.