So I wanted to make a suggestion or two (or twelve - the greater the number, the better chance of success) and I put my little thinking cap on for a stroll through the misty mists swirling over Memory Lane.
It's a wonder I'm not scarred for life - or, maybe, perhaps... I am - by the music I recall from summers/vacations. Driving through the beautiful Mississippi State campus (Dad's alma mater), I distinctly recall hearing Summer Breeze, that godawful Seals & Crofts song about the jasmine in one's miiiiiiihiiiiiiiiiiinnnnnnnnnnd. I think I heard Saturday in the Park (yes, Chicago. the shame!) about a gazillion times the summer we arrived in Washington, D.C. And there was an Eagles tune that dominated the summer of '74 - one of the sappier, sad ones. Probably Best of My Love.
Then I heard the words 'road trip.' And I had my suggestion, my brilliant brilliant suggestion: Truckin', by the Grateful Dead.
No, *they* didn't play it. But I dialed it up on Napster, had a

This is the first record I ever stole, the harbinger of all the illegal downloads to come. ;0
(j/k about the downloads, btw, my bffs FCC and RIAA.)
I stole it from my friend and neighbor Mike Moeller, while I was feeding his cat because he was away on ... you guessed it... vacation! And it came to have a lot of resonance for me. Not only because I was leaving the familiar and safe and comfortable for a strange land full of strangers with a strange English, but because there's a lot of lovely words and even lovelier truths within: You gotta tell your story, boy, you know the reason why; or I sing the song because I loved the man, I know that some of you don't understand; or the whole wispy dream that is Words (Between the Lines of Age).
So, thanks Steve and Jay. Even though you ignored my suggestion, even though you trashed my carefully selected personal musical totem, you managed to do me a favor. Ta mucho mucho, my brothers. And mangez la merde et mourez.
Obligatory Neil Young as Icon of Cool photo

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