What Judy means to me

When I was 8, I took all the courage my little heart could muster and stepped up onto a diving board.

Well, it wasn’t a diving board--it was a starting block raised only a foot off the ground--but my heart was racing nonetheless. I looked around at the other kids who were impatiently waiting in line. I shifted my gaze to find my mom in the crowd of other parents, standing on the sidelines, waiting for me to jump.

But I stepped back down. I was ashamed of myself, probably flushed red. I’d used up all my bravery getting on the platform, and had none left to jump with. I sat down on the porcelain floor and my eyes darted around, afraid to meet my mom’s gaze.

When I met up with her later, I was expecting disappointment. She’d been encouraging me to give ‘diving’ a shot for weeks. I expected a sharp gaze to cut me down. I think I was almost ready for it.

I wasn’t ready for her hug. I wasn’t ready for her to tell me she was proud of me for trying. It all happened so quick. But suddenly things didn’t seem so bad--I wondered what I’d been so scared of the whole time. And we took off for dinner.

What Judy means to me

I discovered Andy Shauf because my finger slipped on the Spotify search tab while I was at Wegman’s with my mom. I didn’t mean to click on “The Magician” (his most played work) but I was immediately intrigued. Trumpets, electric guitar, piano, and soft, high-pitched vocals. I listened to a lot of his music last summer.

One thing I’ve come to realize is that I care more about lyrics than notes. Don’t get me wrong; I love Andy Shauf’s melodies. They’re beautiful, wonky at times, and always colorful. But his words are what keep me listening. Simple scenes and steady storytelling that leaves me feeling something unfamiliar.

Judy and me, every week
Buy a ticket for the Wednesday night lottery
She picks the numbers, I pick it up
Would it feel different if I was holding the winning one?

"Judy (Wilds)" tells the story of a couple’s simple weekly routine, buying lottery tickets and drinking. There’s little discussion of this song online. Some seem to think it really is just about gambling and alcoholism.

Judy and me, every week
Drink at the bar until the numbers are released
I want to pick them one week
But I know that’d be the week that they pick her numbers

But I’ve come to cherish this song because it gets me thinking about something else entirely.

Judy is a foolish woman. The speaker is a foolish man. They sit and drink, earnestly hoping they’ll win. They’re even superstitious about whose numbers to use. But I think they share the kind of optimism that's almost admirable, if idiotic.

What would you buy?
I’d buy a ticket for the Thursday night
And try to win twice

This two-line chorus made me laugh when I first heard it. He’s got so much ambition that he dreams about winning twice, when he can’t even make it once. And we still don't know why he wants the money. It's strangely relatable.

When I was 7, I made my first game on Scratch and dreamed about being a successful video game developer. I pretty much only play chess now.

I got a Launchpad for my 11th birthday after watching a YouTube video of someone playing EDM on one. I still don’t know how I’m supposed to make sounds with it.

When I started in research, I pictured myself at ISEF before I even had a project idea. I was no naïve... so foolish... so innocent...

Judy and me, every time
Gеt our hopes up a little too high
Judy and me squint our еyes
To read the numbers and say maybe next time

I turned 18 recently, and that’s what I’ll miss most about childhood. I’ll miss announcing a different ridiculous dream every week and falling so short of the mark you can’t even recognize what I was trying to do. I’ll miss everyone dismissing my ideas for childish rambles, my feelings for hormones (they were probably right on both counts). I’ll miss the underdog advantage, and the shock on everyone’s faces when I actually did something worthwhile.

I'll miss my mom being proud of me for just stepping up and down a swimming pool starting block. I’ll miss having the room to fail--to have nothing, and dream of everything.

God, I never want to grow up.

Somehow, it feels like I'm on that starting block once again, ten years later. The air reeks of chlorine, the water is gently rippling below my feet, and I feel a little nauseous just looking around. This time, I know I have to jump. But there's a strange security about my surroundings: the ring buoys on the wall to my right, my friends water fighting in the pool, the lifeguard I met this morning standing by my side. Yes, there are other kids in line. Yes, my mom is still watching. But suddenly things don't seem so bad--I wonder what I’ve been so scared of the whole time. I guess this is it.

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Postscript

Judy is the central figure in a concept album Andy Shauf released titled "The Neon Skyline". The album describes events from a single night--but Shauf wrote many more songs that fit the story without occurring in that time frame. “Judy” was one of these songs, initially released as a single. When he compiled many more of them and released the album "Wilds," "Judy" was reworked with slightly different lyrics and a very different chord progression. I prefer this second version.

"Judy (Wilds)" is a song of hope and early beginnings, but like most of Shauf's works, the universe of Judy is one of failed love. I figure childishness is not something to cling onto. But I'm glad it happened. And my hope for children around the world is that they enjoy what little whimsy they can gather before they have to give it up for something new.