My music feed has been mostly radio. Muesli as such, with the premix and hodgepodge invitation for infiltration of the psyche. I speak of the random input of compilation by dj. Music not sought out, and I recognize it, Life like, not controlled by me despite having some dials to twist: to the left or right; up or down; on or off. A bit more treble or bass if my equipment was up to snuff, which varied widely. To call up a song-- on demand-- that was a power of disc/cassette I just didn't have for a very long time. By which I mean purchase, not in dollars, but in the means to go fetch.

Let it be known, I grew up in the official Boondogs.

Pointing the antenna took considerable learned skill.

As did capturing songs on mix tape...

Residing on the East coast mountains, it would seem that the feed would be mostly from the Tristate area, and predominantly NYC as largest hub.

I listened to AM and FM. The AM very poor in connection and rapidly changing. Staples were actually WMU (*that's Western Michigan University Public Radio) based NPR, and Temple University Radio (*a Philadelphia broadcast from what I was later "informed" was a black leaning school, from former professor...). NPR is where I tuned into for classics, but also to find occasional wonders like "Who Shall I Say is Calling?" which when unattributed prompted a flood of questioners and the All Things Considered main guy returned shortly with a statement of apology to listeners.... Guess they didn't really think we were listening....

https://youtu.be/6VHQq-XTSEk?si=4Bw1KWcYayrSYSLZ

Leonard Cohen - Hallelujah & Songs from his Album

Early morning public university radio played stuff local radio didn't like Euro Beat tunes and stuff in foreign languages (French, German, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, Scandinavian). I'm still looking for that fun foreign accented tune with English refrain... hey, hey, supergirl...

One of the first cassettes I ever owned, given to me for Christmas, fresh, age 10 was:

https://youtu.be/TIQyAitAcPk?si=oJslHOtysCtoQmiehttps://youtu.be/LCzgsZi_zfg?si=2oH_bAFb9klWkOGR

Beats International - Let them Eat Bingo

Jazz, funk and swing, especially electroswing are my blood type. And that's where Temple University radio was a sustainer. One of my first vinyls insisted on, later:

https://youtu.be/HFz1RbQg9gE?si=OTnrFDsMmVL-BRkw

Dave Brubeck Quartet - Time Out

Sure, I listened to local pop radio as well, and Casey Cason's Top 40 weekend countdown, and it was informative to a time... until Clear Channel swept through and started buying up stations and stacking the same cue of tracks on rerun. No matter what local station you tuned your dial, it seemed suddenly Clear Channel was sitting on it, and playing the same stuff over and over and even in the same damn sequence day after day. Maybe I listened to intently or too often; it really seemed a blatant take over of the airwaves. And I stopped listening.

I started buying CDs, and now mp3s.

This is the story of Kevin.

He was an average man with a simple life. He made a good living for himself, straight out of college, working at a tech start-up company as a cyber technician in Chicago. He has no kids, no girlfriend, not even a pet.

His parents, who were up in age, lived in Ohio where he was born and raised. He has an older brother who just made partner at a law firm in New York City, and a younger sister who was finishing up her senior year in college at Michigan State.

A lot of people always wondered why Kevin was single. He was by far the handsome one, as his brother was the charmer. He was the typical heartthrob throughout high school and college. Tall, muscular, clear skin, nice curls that the girls died over, sweet, had good grades and most of all-a smile that could give anyone a toothache. He had everything. Young and off to an amazing start to his adulthood.

That was until, things got strange. Very strange…

It all started one fall brisk morning. Everything was normal. Well, normal for Kevin that is. He awoke, went for a morning jog around town. He waved to the local bakery owner Mr. Brown, spoke to Ms. Lydia, who owned the Bodega a few blocks down the street, ran in place while he waited for the light to change as he checked his heart rate. Then ran the long four blocks back home. He had the same routine almost every other day.

But today… today would be the day his life would be a thing of the past. Literally.

While showering, Kevin noticed while rubbing the water out of his eyes, things were blurry. He grabbed a towel to dry off, while wiping his eyes again. Things were seemingly better, but this time he saw a shadow out the side of his eyes at random times. Even bright lights would appear as he got dressed like someone may have flicked a light switch on and off.

“That’s weird.” He said aloud.

He blinked a few times, fixed his hair and brushed his teeth.

The blurry mess went away. He let out a sigh of relief as he drove to work.

That’s when the random bright light on the side of his left eye appeared again while driving. He looked to his left, thinking a car had just shined their lights on, as it was kind of a gray day. Overcast of clouds as it would be raining later in the day. There was no car or any light for that matter to his left. He shrugged it off as he continued to work.

Once he parked his car and began walking towards the entrance of his building, he saw a shadowy blur. No figure, just something that looking like a smudge or a cloud of smoke. He noticed if he looked out the side of his eye, he didn’t see it. Only when he looked ahead. He blinked his eyes a few times and the blur disappeared just as fast as it had appeared. He paused in his steps in the middle of the road as a car approached him.

“Beep!”

The car horn made Kevin jump as he was rubbing his eyes.

“Kev! Get some coffee man!” Mark yelled.

Mark was his best-friend and co-worker. They both started at the same time, had so much in common, they naturally clicked-instantly. Thus, the beginning of their “bro-mance” as the other co-workers liked to tease.

“Whatever, I’m fully awake. I think it’s something in my eye.”

“Well, get out the street!” He laughed as he parked.

Kevin stuck his middle finger up at Mark, as he walked across the street and waited for him to park. Mark, a jokester, but very smart, swung his backpack over his shoulder as he jogged across the lot. Keys in hand, he hit the alarm over his shoulder.

“Sup bro.” Mark said as he gave Kevin a hi-five.

“Man. Same ole same ole.”

“Da heck were you doing in the middle of street man?” Mark asked as they walked inside.

“I keep seeing these blurs. Like shadows and lights out the sides of my eyes.” Kevin said gesturing to his face.

“Take your contacts out.” Mark smirked.

“I don’t wear contacts.”

“Well, maybe you should start then-blind man.”

Kevin pushed Mark as they horsed around a bit laughing.

“You better get ya eyes together if you want to keep peeking at the “Lovely Laura” over there.” Mark said as he waved at a girl who worked at the indoor barista.

“Shut. Up.”

“Dude, just go over there and talk to her.”

“No.”

“Come on. You’re always smiling like you’re in a daze when you actually make eye contact with her. Ask her out.”

Kevin rolled his eyes. “I’m good.”

“You definitely need a eye exam. As fine as she is, you would be a fool not to talk to her.”

“She probably has someone.”

“I bet you five bucks that you can keep, she’s single and ready to mingle.” , Mark teased as he did a little dance.

Kevin glanced over at Laura, slightly waved and kept walking.

“How would you know?” Kevin asked inquisitively.

“I asked her friend who works the barista on the weekends.”

Kevin smirked looking unimpressed.

“Well, if you won’t-I will.”, Mark said as he turned back walking in Laura’s direction.

“Mark! Stop!”

“What one man won’t do, another man will Kev! Carpe Diem!”

“Alright!”

“Atta boy! Go get ’em!” Mark smiled as he patted Kevin on the back for support.

Kevin inhaled and exhaled as he walked towards Laura. He wondered what he would say, how he looked, if his lips were chapped, did his breath smell. His mind raced with randomness until his thoughts went completely blank once he was in her presence. Face to face. Smiling.

“Hi Kevin!” Laura began.

“Ah, hey there Laura.”

Kevin who instantly became too stunned to speak, began rocking back and forth on his feet.

Laura, who looked at him puzzled, started the conversation instead.

“Would you like anything today?”

“Um…yeah about that. I’m not a coffee drinker.” He said in a low tone as he leaned in.

“We offer more than coffee. How about a tea or something we can create on the fly? 100% juice?”

“Wow! Had I known that, I would’ve came here sooner!”

They both laughed.

“Um…do you have anything strawberry flavored?”

“Sure! Do you want just that or another fruit?”

“Surprise me. I have no food allergies.”

After a few sounds from the blender, Laura made him a Strawberry-Apple smoothie with a touch of lime.

“Wow! This taste great-thanks!”

“You’re welcome! Glad you like it!”

“What is this called?”

“Doesn’t have a name. You get to name it whatever you like.”

“Let’s call it the “Lovely Laura.” Mark chimed in out of nowhere.

Kevin coughed a little, as some of the smoothie hit the back of his throat.

Laura shook her head as she asked Kevin if he was okay.

“Excuse him, I’m sorry for that.” Kevin said slightly annoyed.

“Don’t be. I like it.” She said smiling at Kevin.

“Welp, my work here is done. Laura, can I have my usual & put it on my tab please.”

“Sure, coming up.”

“What the heck man?!” Kevin asked with a stern look.

“Look, you’ve broken the ice. Now just ask her out already.”

“I was about to before you came with your goofiness.”

“I’m getting my order and then I’ll be out of your way. Promise.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“I will. Besides, my crush will be clocking in soon and I don’t want to miss her.”

“Oh, Sidney from the business office?”

“Yep. Maybe we can all double date?”

“Not a chance man. I would prefer my first date solo.”

“Ah…I love a man with boldness!” Mark said as he put his arm around Kevin jokingly & laughing.

Kevin shoved him off.

“All set!” Laura said as she passed the drink to Mark.

“Thanks! Catch you guys later!”

With that, Mark took off on the elevator. Once out of sight, Kevin made his move.

“Ah… so…Laura…”

“Yeah-what’s up?”

“Ah, I wanted to know if you would be interested in maybe going out sometime?”

“Wow! Um... yeah sure! I never thought you would ask.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I was always kinda hoping you would. I was actually working up the nerve to ask you.”

“Wow. I had no idea. I’m so glad I did.”

“Me too.” Laura said smiling.

“Well, here…let’s swap numbers. We can text and maybe catch a movie?”

“Yeah, I would like that.” Laura said as she passed her phone to Kevin.

Once they saved each other’s numbers in their phones, Kevin waved bye to Laura and he disappeared onto the elevator.

“So?” Mark asked as Kevin sat down at his desk.

“I got her number and asked her out.”

“My man!” Mark said aloud, as he threw his fist in the air.

As the work day continued, Kevin and Laura texted all throughout the day. They had so much in common and even set a date that weekend to catch a new horror flick that just released. As the day ended, he and Mark walked to their cars.

“Wanna hit the grill?” Mark asked.

“Nah, not tonight. Parents are in town remember? And we’re going out to dinner. I gotta jet to shower and what not.”

“Ah, that’s right. Alright, man I’ll catch ya later.”

“Peace.”

While driving home, Kevin was so elated that he couldn’t stop smiling. He gushed like a teen at the thought of taking Laura on a date. He felt like today was a dream he didn’t want to awake from. And to top it all off, his parents were in town. He couldn’t wait to take them to the towns most popular favorite steak house. Life was good.

As Kevin parked, his phone alerted him a few times with text notifications. He checked them out as he grabbed his things and locked the car. One was from his mom. One from Mark and one from Laura.

Of course he checked Laura’s first.

“Glad we finally got to talk. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow at work. Have an awesome time at dinner!”

Kevin smiled from ear to ear, as he replied back, walking to his place.

Then he checked Marks, which read.

“Dude…I’m so freaking proud of you bro for finally asking the “Lovely Laura” out!

Tell the parental’s I said hi and don’t forget to let them scan ya app to get those points!”

Kevin shook his head laughing to himself, as he replied back.

Lastly, as he walked into his place, locking the door behind him, he checked the text from his mom.

“Honey, we are going to meet you at your place and ride with you okay? We should be there in about an half hour.”

Kevin called his mom and told her okay. He confirmed with her where to have dad park, his apartment and floor number in case they forgot. His mom reminded him it would rain sometime tonight and to bring an umbrella. With that, he hung up, tossed the phone in the middle of the bed and got ready to shower.

He already had in mind what he would wear. It was slightly chilly, so he opted for a nice pair of black slacks, a black button down, threw a baby blue tie on the bed with undergarments, and a leather jacket. He didn’t have to worry about the umbrella since he kept that in his trunk. He blasted music on his speaker, and jumped in the shower. As the warm water hit his head, Kevin began singing along. That’s when he thought he heard something spill onto the floor.

He paused for a second and the sound stopped. He shrugged it off as he continued to shower and wet his hair. Once done, he squeezed the last bit of water out of his hair, dried off, and wrapped a towel around his waist. As he walked towards the bathroom mirror to begin styling his hair, he saw the shadows again.

“Ah shit! Not again. No, no, no…”

As he wiped his eyes again, it went away. But the sound of something spilling on the floor started again.

“The hell…”

Kevin began as he turned his head towards the sound of the noise and it stopped again. He paused and listened. Nothing but the music that still played. Concerned, but thought maybe he was losing it, he shrugged it off and continued fixing his hair. After brushing his teeth, he walked to his room and noticed rice was on the floor in random places.

“What the hell…”

He bent over and picked up a few pieces to examine it.

“The hell?! Where did rice come from?!”

Just then the phone rang. Kevin, startled, jumped. Dropping the rice. He cut the music off as he grabbed his phone. It was his parents.

“Hey sweetie, just letting you know we’re almost there okay?”

“Uh…okay mom.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Yeah… its just this damn rice all over the floor.”

“Rice?”

“Yeah… I’ll tell you all about it once you get here. I’m almost finished getting dressed.”

“Okay sweetie. See you soon. Love you.”

“Love you too mom.”

As Kevin threw his towel on the bed, he hurried and got dressed. He called Mark as he began to pace the floor.

“Pick up…Pick up…”

“Sup Romeo!”

“Mark! Dude, you free?”

“Yeah, yeah. What you zip ya jimmie in ya pants? You alright?”

“I…”

That’s when the sound began again. This time he saw it for himself. Rice appear a few feet above the floor. Pouring over the floor.

“AH!” Kevin yelled as he jumped back startled. He fell backwards into his dresser, knocking things over.

“Kevin!” “Kev!” Mark yelled. “Bro I’m on my way! I’m calling you right back!”

Mark hug up and immediately called Kevin back via FaceTime.

“Kev!” Mark yelled, now in his car speeding.

“I’m here-I’m here!”

“What is going on?!”

“Rice…”

“What?!”

“Rice is spilling on the floor mid air. The shadows are back too!”

“Dude what rice? Show me.”

Kevin, flipped the camera view around to show it.

“Don’t you see it! Don’t you hear it?!”

“Kev… I… I don’t see nor hear anything man.”

“Bro! It’s right there! It’s covering the whole floor and spreading fast! EVERYWHERE!”

The fear in Kevin’s eyes as he flipped the camera back to his face scared Mark.

“Kev, get up and get ya keys and get out of there now. I’m almost there.”

“My parents…they are almost here!”

“Kev, get ya stuff and go to the door-NOW!”

Kevin scrambled to his feet. He grabbed his keys, wallet and bolted to the front door. He then began screaming in fear. Rice poured over his head and filled the ground so fast. He couldn’t even open the door.

“Bro open the door! The hell are you doing?!”

“I’m trying! I-I can’t!”

“What you mean?”

“This damn rice is blocking the door! It’s too heavy to open!”

“Kev! There is no rice!”

“It is! I’m telling you it is!”

“I’m looking dead at you man! THERE IS NO RICE! OPEN THE DOOR!”

“I’M TRYING! I CAN’T! HELP! HELP ME!”

Mark arrived, barley having the car in park, jumped out of the car. He bolted into the apartment building. He ran past Kevin’s parents who were waiting for the lobby elevator.

“Guys!”

“Hey Mark! Are you joining us for dinner?”

“No, no… its Kevin…we gotta go now!”

“What! What’s wrong?!” His mom asked.

“Where’s Kevin?!” His dad asked.

“Come on, the steps are here! Elevator is too damn slow. Kev! We’re coming!”

“Hurry! It’s almost to my neck!”

Mark tore through the door that lead to the steps. His parents followed right on his heels. Three flights they ran, while Kevin begged for help the whole time.

“Mommy is coming Kevin! Hold on! Hold on!”

“Mom! I can’t… I can’t breathe!

They made it to his door as his mom pulled out the spare key Kevin had given them. The door unlocked but wouldn’t budge open.

“Kev! We’re here. Move away from the door!”

“I…I can’t. The…the rice is pulling me down and…blocking the door!”

“We don’t see any rice honey!” “We’re right here!”

“Kev!” Mark screamed as he ran and pushed with all his might.

Kevin’s dad told his mom to call 911. He then joined Mark to bust the door down. That’s when his dad spotted an axe down the hall. He ran to it, broke the glass with his elbow and ran back hacking at the door. Kevin was now disappearing before their eyes on the phone. Almost as if he was going under something that wasn’t there.

“Help! Help me! He….”

*SNAP!*

Just like that, they busted down the door.

No rice, no Kevin, only his phone on the floor.

“Kevin!” Everyone yelled. “Kevin!”

No answer.

“Omg, omg, omg… where is he?!”

Mark picked up his phone. Kevin was telling the truth. On his phone, the snap sound was his camera going off. It caught evidence of him surrounded in rice, going under with fear in his eyes.

(The title is her full name )

I'm going to explain her name first. Dixie Doodle was originally her name, modeled after Yankee Doodle. But, she is now a certified dum-dum because she runs in front of all vehicles and tries to eat the wheels! Yes I realize we spell dum-dum weird, but the lollipops is delicious!

Anyway, my family lives on a farm with 5 acres of land. When I was about 8, we went to church, and when we returned, we saw a dog just sitting on our porch. She had a rusty chain around her neck and a bunch of scratches. Apparently, one of our neighbors had chained up this poor dog and wouldn’t feed it. (They are no longer our neighbor) We took the dog in and named her Dixie. Dixie is a German Shepard and she lives up to her name! She herds our horses all the time! We still have that rusty chain hanging on our chicken coup, kind of reminding us where she came from.

A couple of years later Dixie was now 5 years old. We were sleeping and it was about 2:30 am. My brother woke up to little yips of dogs. He was really confused and woke up my parents. So… my dog had been pregnant and we didn’t even know! She had mated with our neighbor's dog (A Great Pyrenees) and had 9 gorgeous puppies. Unfortunately, one of them died because it didn’t eat. My family and I buried it with a headstone that said trianglehead. (We named them after their distinct features) We obviously couldn’t keep 8 puppies, so we raised them for 5 weeks and then kept one. We gave the rest to different families we trusted. The one we kept, her name was Pepper. We kept her for a while until she started running into the street and the sheriff kept getting called. Anyway, I love my dog so much, and I hope she lives for so long.

I don't know what it is with us and finding animals, but my mom found a newborn cat in a parking lot and rescued it, so if you want to hear that story please like and leave a comment! ❤️

I noticed the swell or her stomach, so gently sloping before I even took in the features on her face. Her round belly was wrapped in a pretty floral top that mom had worn years ago when she was pregnant. My sister had told me she was pregnant a few months ago. I saw her post photos of the baby bump on all her social medias with her typical artistic flair. She and her husband live across the country in sunny California. I don’t know why they’d waste a week of California spring to spend that time in New England. We can boast of frost and rain until mid-May some years. Longer if you’re one of the brave souls who lives up in Maine.

Mom reached her first, enveloping her in an overly cautious embrace. Mom has had five children, yet she treats my sister as if childbearing is the most dangerous condition ever. I don’t mean to insult pregnant women, really, I don’t. I’ve never been pregnant, and I’m not sure I ever will. But our mom acts like even a too-firm hug could injure her daughter or the granddaughter within her womb. She fell down the stairs with her second child and was in a car accident with me, the baby of the family. Every single one of us was fine. I think women are more resilient than we’re given credit for, that’s all.

We exchanged hugs and hellos and retired to the living rooms when their suitcases were brought in. My dad immediately made sure my sister could put her feet up and had a glass of water in her hand. I guess she should be pampered. She’s growing a human being after all. She’s seven months pregnant. Every time she glances at her belly or brushes a hand against it, she smiles. Maybe they’re being cautious because they’ve had trouble keeping babies. Two confirmed miscarriages and a few more that my sister claims were certainly pregnancies but were gone too early to test.

Her husband sat proudly beside her. He doesn’t talk much at first, you really have to let him get comfortable before he joins in the conversation. I wasn’t sure he was going to say anything at all. His eyes hadn’t left his wife and the baby hidden inside of her.

I love my sister, I do. But nobody was even half this excited when two of our brothers announced they were having kids with their spouses the last few years. My sister was always the golden child, though, so maybe we brought this on ourselves, anyway. Growing up she was the first one to answer when mom or dad called. She had all As and did her chores without being asked. She competed at the state level in high school in cross country and won scholarships for athletics, her artwork, and her academics. If she were my kid, I’d have a hard time not favoring her, too. But I could tell, even if nobody else could, that my brothers were hurt about how excited mom and dad were for her baby rather than theirs.

I love my sister a lot. She’s never once done anything to make me dislike her even a little; She had a big heart and was a great big sister growing up. She taught me how to put on makeup, style my hair, and even shave my legs. Maybe I do resent her a little. It’s just because I know mom taught her all of those things. I just wish that rather than my wonderful sister teaching me, it would have been mom. I wish mom had taken a moment and spent it with just me, teaching me what it means to be a woman. I don’t even know how to complain about it without sounding whiny or ungrateful.

She went into preterm labor near the end of her visit. And now I feel like a real jerk for being jealous of her the whole time.

I grew up thinking music wasn't all that important in my family.

It wasn't pervasive like the argumentative silence-- the constant grudge that was held against communication and creativity in general. But I was wrong. Impressions leave a mark, and they are only half-truths, empty indentations, before the long paragraph that would follow as explanation.

Music was part of our myth, after all; the Polyphemus, kneeling, before sound.

I grew up believing I wasn't musical, and competitive as is my nature, I was determined to make up for that deficit. I asked Mother for a flute one year. The year before they would have selected openings for Band. I was eight.

Flute, sax, clarinet, trumpet, or drums. Those were the options for tutoring.

"Ask your grandfather," was the monotone answer behind the magazine, after a long sip of homemade latte. Mother liked a little coffee with her heavy cream, between the lazy trailings of her red tipped dragon companion. Newports.

Her father, Bruno, with deference, was one step from church and God Almighty--

he was Bank.

Promptly, my grandparents returned from a trip to Europe with a lovely hand carved wooden recorder. (Flute, sax, clarinet, trumpet or drums, remember? unless trying out for string orchestra.) Sigh. I was disappointed.  I had no natural ear; otherwise maybe I'd be already mimicking bits of Mozart... with all humility, I knew I needed lessons.

Mother played the piano; and refused to teach us. The basics, to me and my sister. Finger positions, chords...

"I'm not good enough," she sighed pushing some junk mail from side to side.

I persisted.

I wanted a flute. For a very specific pragmatic reason.

It's odd the way things metaphorically distort mentally, in the eye. Stress. They say children lose their distance-vision as a defensive response--to things they fear to see or wish to shut out of their lives.

Listening intently to the inside.

I don't condemn them for it, philosophically. Our parents refused to get us glasses, though both my sister and I "clearly needed" them by mid-elementary years. The admonishment was that the crutch of lenses would make the myopic condition irreversible.

As might be imagined, it made school difficult-- not seeing the board, or math problems, or oncoming persons, or gym balls, etc., etcetera.

I strategized that a flute would secure the comfortable "convincing" distance I'd need to actually see the music sheets, and discretely learn the notes, in sound and name, and the corresponding finger positionings... Music is dynamic like that...

The Bank, reconsidered.

And gave me a beautiful, old, imported Stradivarius.

It was gorgeous. Red carved and lacquered wood with requisite horsehair bow and an amber block of intoxicating pine-scented rosin. They immediately encouraged me to take it out of its ornate case and hold it, under the chin proper, with arms extended... my nine-year-old heart breaking at every silent punctuation of the natural dimensions required.

No, I could not see the music sheet to save my life.

Not only did I have no natural talent to "play by ear," but now with musical notation in front of my face, I was a certified idiot.

I was just awful. Mrs. Bobiak all but said so.

I practiced of course, at home, at odd angles, to memorize the songs so as not to mortify myself, in front of peers, but time and time again, if asked to start at some arbitrary point (on paper) I was at a loss... f*k if I knew what note was what where, and somehow Mrs. Bobiak never grasped that I could not see the sheet...

My sister, on our Father's insistence for fairness, was also given a Stradivarius, the subsequent year; to her bewilderment; and she took the thing with emotional distance. She never saw the issue. She was musical, and voice was her preferred instrument.

As for the violin, she seldom practiced.

To wrap this part of the torturous history, a brief stint in foster care, as well as court appointed healthcare, landed us both in unfashionable, but functional eyeglasses. My sister made rapid progress. Mrs. Bobiak said so and smiled politely at my continued ineptitude.

I continued to grow up believing my family really didn't care for music...

All the perquisites were there, but surrealistically misplaced.

Father, on his part, had recorded with a band of his own devising (...Ciche Mnichi, meaning The Silent Monks) in which he played Banjo. Our family house had a modest collection of unplayed vinyl with the standby labels and titles, Elvis, Roy, Aretha, Beatles, etc... here respectability shattered... the expensive stereo was as if permanently transfixed to a leaky corner of the living room, where water seeped from the cathedral ceiling and made it semi-operable... and upstairs in the library closet, audio cassettes number in the 100's including four sometimes five copies of identical albums... maniacally... still sealed in cellophane, and those hard plastic wrap around handles designed to prevent theft....

And the greatest treasures, of lyric and instrumentals, were bootleg. Wojtek Mlynarski. Maciej Zembaty, Edith Piaf, Leonard Cohen, among others. And some that got transferred over, and over to fresh blanks... Like ABBA and 100 of the World's Most Beautiful Melodies...

As it turned out, Father cared so much for music that he would rather play it in his memory, than suffer a washed-out reality over poor equipment or disintegrated copy. He told me, when he could not suffer another note by Aula Babdul (*on poor mix tape containing the otherwise esteemed Paula Abdul).

Which explains, in part, why music was listened to primarily in the car...

It was Mother who surprised me most, years later... when she met my husband, music fanatic Bunny Villaire, and it turned out they spoke as if the same language, like veritable encyclopedias, referencing fairly obscure gems of music recording...

Mother even voiced the title on his mind an hour before our wedding as he searched his files for just tune as I descended the stairs...

"...play the Power of Love," she suggest. "Perfect," he answered, setting the needle.

I understand now that love of music is kept locked, close to the heart, and emerges at times, spiritually like Gospel or Jazz, improv.

And it is beautiful to take part in Song, whatever the genre; and its counterpart.

The track that comes to mind, as haunting my music experience:

https://youtu.be/qYS0EeaAUMw?si=Yn0rNy6gHhh_JQHR

Thank you for your faith. Your prayers are very important to us. Prayers will be answered in the order in which they were prayed.

Due to heavier than usual supplicant volume, you may experience longer wait times. Please enjoy this celestial choir while you wait.

Thank you for your patience. Listen carefully to our menu, as the options have changed:

Press 1 if you are ill.

If you cannot wait, please call 9-1-1.

Press 2 if you have fallen into financial hardship.

If you cannot wait, you can temporarily suspend your usual tithes while you finish the application for the new credit card for which you have been pre-approved. Remember, certain restrictions apply.

Press 3 if you need to be hired for a certain employment position that will certainly change your life.

If you cannot wait, please contact your state's unemployment office for community college opportunities in other professions. And you can temporarily suspend your usual tithes.

Press 4 if you're experiencing a crisis of faith.

If you cannot wait until I can re-proselytize you, please review the Christopher Hitchens videos on YouTube or, alternatively, consider Islam, Judaism, or any other religion, except for Scientology. (Don't get me started!)

Press 5 if you are consumed by a breeder reactor of unpayable student debt due to incessantly accruing interest.

If you cannot wait, please transfer your debt service to the new card for which you have been pre-approved. Remember the promotional interest rate is temporary.

Press 6 if you are depressed.

If you cannot wait, please consume your larger-than-usual daily requirement of chocolate and ask your doctor if SSRIs are right for you.

Press 7 if you are in pain.

Remember that higher numbers on the analog pain scale receive priority.

Press 8 if you just want to talk.

If you cannot wait, please call back. I'm kind of busy.

Press 9 if you just can't catch a break and enjoy our celestial choir.

PLEASE BE ADVISED that due to

--current conflicts,

--natural disasters,

--epidemics,

--famines, and

--genocides,

...we are experiencing longer than usual wait times. For your particular stupid, clueless concern, consider just dealing with it and call another time. Thank you for your faith.

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