Music Monday: No Roots

Most of the time, the songs I choose for MM posts are related somehow to my writing. Sometimes they are related to something happening in the world. But some of them speak to me, who I am, where I come from, and the like. This week's song is one of those.

The United Methodist Church has been in the news a lot over the past few years. The other day, I fell into a debate on social media concerning the North Georgia Conference of the UMC. One of the more prominent churches has recently been involved in a rather public tantrum over the minister being unwilling to accept a change in appointment. That is not how the UMC works - if you want to stay in a church forever, there are other Christian denominations. But what drew me out was a comment from a supposed fellow preacher's child who claimed that her upbringing involved being moved around willy nilly as a child with no explanation. If that was her experience then she needs to address that with her parents, not with the conference.

It led me to think about my own childhood - we did move about every four years until I was in high school. I learned early that if you try to hang on to your past it will just hurt. A lot. There were a lot of tears surrounding those moves - tears that served no real purpose. I was thinking about that when I heard this song, and it hit me. I've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground. Never.

No Roots - Alice Merton
I like digging holes and hiding things inside themWhen I grow old I hope I won't forget to find them'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the nightI build a home and wait for someone to tear it downThen pack it up in boxes, head for the next town running'Cause I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night
And a thousand times I've seen this roadA thousand times
I've got no roots, but my home was never on the groundI've got no roots, but my home was never on the groundI've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ootsI've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ootsI've got no roots, but my home was never on the groundI've got no roots, but my home was never on the groundI've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ootsI've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oots
I like standing still, boy, that's just a wishful planAsk me where I come from, I'll say a different landBut I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the nightI count gates and numbers, then play the guessing gameIt's just the place that changes, the rest is still the sameBut I've got memories and travel like gypsies in the night
And a thousand times I've seen this roadA thousand times
I've got no roots, but my home was never on the groundI've got no roots, but my home was never on the groundI've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ootsI've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ootsI've got no roots, but my home was never on the groundI've got no roots, but my home was never on the ground
I've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ootsI've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-oots
I like digging holesHiding things inside themWhen I grow oldI won't forget to find themI like digging holesHiding things inside themWhen I grow oldI won't forget to find them
I've got no rootsNo roots
I've got no roots, but my home was never on the groundI've got no roots, but my home was never on the groundI've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ootsI've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ootsI've got no roots, but my home was never on the groundI've got no roots, but my home was never on the groundI've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ootsI've got no roo-oo-oo-oo-oo-ootsNo!