Don't Cry For Me Argentina

I probably wouldn't have encountered this song if I had never had the history teacher I did in high school. Every morning that I would walk into his classroom for the first part of the semester he would be playing the same songs almost every day unless he just forgot to put them on that day or if it is Christmas time. Somehow, almost every morning, I would walk in during "Don't Cry For Me Argentina" most every morning, so he had a pretty good idea of when I would walk in.
I first fell in love with this song from one of its quick build to a longer crash when Madonna isn't singing; the crash was such that I could feel echoing through my stomach as if someone was rolling a large amount of rocks off a cliff into my stomach. Few songs can capture my senses like this one: I was almost running through a field with a few trees, the ground would change in elevation and allow the trees to glide across the meadow almost as if they were skating and interpreting the waves sifting sand in my stomach. The year that I didn't have him as a teacher didn't keep me from visiting him. Just stepping into the room and smelling a bit of the wood glue from all the models he made would bring me back to this song. Once in a while, as I would sit there and do some homework, he would share with me some stories about the planes he made models of. He would always have a bit of candy in his desk, and gave me a piece whenever he would tell of the intense dog fights of his bi-decker and tri-decker model planes that the Red Baron flew, the total destruction of the atom bombs the Enola Gay dropped, a bit from the USS Constitution, or anything else he had made. Eventually, I adopted him as a kindof grandpa without telling him.