Grandma's New Guitar

These are the lyrics to a song it has taken me forty three years to write. I have so much gratitude toward my grandma, that the proper words just wouldn't come. I hope this is good enough.

GRANDMA'S NEW GUITAR

I found this block of wood
and it felt so very good,
when I held it in my hands so long ago.
I guess I had a vision,
cause I made a snap decision.
I knew that this thing could teach me, the things I wanted to know.
So I said, "grandma please!
I'll get down here on my bended knees,
it was always you who helped me get this far."
She didn't shake her head or curse,
she just smiled and opened up her purse.
It was grandma who bought me this guitar.

It's been nigh on fifty years,
and now as my own time nears
I'll carry this guitar to the very end.
Somehow grandma knew
when she purchased me this thing I do,
that this old box would always be my friend.

Up and down the road we played,
even got some money made
playing blues and grass, and often she just rocks.
I guess I love her still,
and I reckon that I always will.
I've spent a lifetime playing this old wooden box.

Yes, I love grandma still,
and as I make my way over that big old hill,
you know that I'll be playing this guitar.
And if I do things good,
when I die I hope it's understood
that it was grandma who bought me this guitar.
And if I'm lucky friend
I'll see my grandma once again
and yes, I'll still be hauling this guitar.
Thank you grandma, for buying this guitar.

The Validation of the Soul

I talked earlier of how I felt validated in 1975, as a musician. It is a transformative experience, that does actually validate one's soul. This is because when you play music, and particularly when you write the songs, it exposes  every last atom of your being, and opens the door for inspection. And you are so incredibly vulnerable, it is very difficult to adequately describe the fear and terror. Hell, you may as well walk out onstage naked.

Once you strap on the guitar and pick a note, and especially when you open your mouth and sing a note, you are just hanging it out there for all to see. And we humans are very critical by nature. So you sweat bullets.

Well maybe I'm late to the party, but I saw something that had happened in 2004, to which I was oblivious. 2004 was a strange year anyway, as I was getting used to a new drug regiment that included methadone, and for months it seems all I did was sleep. Methadone is a horrible drug, but also very effective to kill pain. Anyway, suffice to say there is a good reason I missed the event of which I am about to speak.

Again, it is about validation, though this time not my own. This time I want to talk about a huge influence on my journey through music, and what is in my heart. More explicitly, who is in my heart. And that is Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys.

While it is true that as a young child, I liked Elvis. I really got involved in wanting to make music from two artists. Ricky Nelson and Brian Wilson. They were my early role models. And Brian Wilson, brothers and friends, caused me to examine harmony for the first time. Obviously the Beach Boys were one of the greatest vocal bands ever, but that isn't what we will discuss.

I want to talk about the all out hang out of playing music. Music can be a lover, a friend, a companion, but it also can be a goblin, a nemesis and a devil. Most musicians meet their Waterloo at some point, in the way of a piece of music you can envision, but not play. It seems too difficult. It seems like a wall which has no top. A wall you cannot scale. Brian met his with his album called Smile.

He began that endeavor around 1967, and finished it in 2004. And along the way, that music sent him to therapy often. I think I completely understand where his head was located. Your mind can hear it, and can even hear yourself doing it, but you can't seem to translate that from head to hands and throat. And it had always worked before, but now was broken.

I suppose it is a bit like we all feel, when our mind thinks we are twenty, but the body is forty five, and you can't do those things anymore. Well, it gets worse. My mind still thinks it is young, but my body says to do the math. An insurmountable wall of music can act the same way. You could do that yesterday, but can't today. And you can't blame the aging process for this one.

So what Brian did in 04, is more than just astounding, perhaps miraculous. He faced down the demon that had been inside his head for decades. And he walked out the other side, again complete. By performing this music in London, he'd scaled the insurmountable wall of his own making. So impressive.

So I could see, while watching this video, the change in Brian's eyes as the night progressed. And I recognized that look in his eyes. I could feel that look, and the emotion behind it. This is how it goes. On the first song, you are so nervous, but when the music begins you go to your happy place. And after the first few notes, this music begins to feel like a comfortable slipper. So you slide your feet in, and before you know it your toes are nice and warm, and you are just playing.

And then the crowd seems to like it, and your energy level takes off like a rocket. There is no comparable rush to obtain by using any drug. And it isn't an ego trip per se, but more like a very deep and intense satisfaction. A task accomplished. And the bigger the task, the more satisfaction, or validation if you will.

Well Brian finally finished his album, performed it to an amazing audience that included Paul McCartney, and wowed them. Like when Paul is in the audience jumping and clapping, just like the plumber, fireman and postman next to him. It was as if he'd never played, but simply gone to a great concert. It must have been amazing for Brian Wilson. And it is amazing for me, and it makes me very happy as well. And it is strange because it happened over ten years ago, though I just found out.

I can relate to this, as I'm sure that every reader can as well. We have all conquered a demon or two, usually. We've all accomplished something we thought we could not, hopefully. And we've all experienced the deep satisfaction and validation of work well done and appreciated, hopefully.

I have to say that when that validation comes in the form of thousands of cheering people, it is pretty overpowering. They may not realize what they did, but you do.

I feel so happy right now, after watching that concert. It is almost as intense as it was forty years ago for me, the rush that accompanies something like what you know Brian was feeling. I have been lucky enough to be in the crowd for a few of those moments. One that comes to mind is watching Willie Nelson transform onstage, from a grieving friend to one delighting in honoring the subject of that grief. In this case for Willie it was the very recent death of his buddy, Waylon Jennings.

Quite often an audience doesn't realize the effect they've had on the performer. When the audience demands an encore, we notice that. It may just seem like a formality, but it isn't. Not to a performer. And I think we spend our lives doing things for people, of which we are unaware. We all do those things on a regular basis, while not knowing. It is good to remember that your most mundane act, could have the butterfly effect. It could be something you didn't even notice, that changed someones world.

I suppose now is the time to talk the golden rule. Do unto others. Well Paul McCartney did that for Brian Wilson in 2004. And some crowd probably did that for Paul, too. Paul reacted like everyone else in that audience, and the only difference is that the camera shot him more often. But it wasn't Paul who probably had the largest effect on Brian, but the plumber standing next to Paul, or whomever. Judging by Paul's reaction, I bet he knew what Brian was feeling. I know I did. And it is powerful, when people are so kind.

I suppose the lesson is that one should really try to practice the golden rule all the time. Being human, that is probably beyond our reach. But we should strive to do that. And a reminder is always a good thing. Because tomorrow when you step our your door, or maybe before that, you might change someones world. I hope you change it for the good.

Tonight I'll sleep well, thinking of Brian's experience in 04. And thinking of my own experience. And waxing so nostalgic, you are probably sick of reading this. But tomorrow, I hope the world that changes is your own. And I hope the people responsible have it happen to them as well. In fact, I'm pretty sure there is a potential snowball effect there. And it all begins with you. Goodnight.

Old Wooden Boxes

Here's a little poem I wrote this morning.

old wooden boxes
all strung up in strings
open our minds to so many things

our hearts open locks
when these things we do
and happy or sad, our souls just shine through

whether a waltz, or four four in time
a song has a way to open the mind
and whether in tune, or slightly off kilter
the soul seems to act as a finely grained filter

frequency flashes
harmony crashes
notes on a scale

waves of emotion
rock on the ocean
of sound, and they wail

they sing, they cry, they laugh, they die

old wooden boxes
carry the keys to the soul

Fraley The Fiddling Fool

The year was 1972. A friend asked me if I wanted to go to the local college, where they were having a music festival. I said sure, and am so happy that I did. This will be a short post, but a personally important one for me.

Tom Flanagan and I were walking around the festival, when we saw a tent marked "The Fraley Family" and Tom lit up. He turned very excited and asked if I'd ever heard J.P. Fraley play his fiddle?

The next period of time, I could not describe adequately. Suffice to say that was the day I knew what a fiddle, placed in the proper hands, could do.

Now, I had grown up hearing fiddle music. My grandma was a fiddler. And Corrine "Trixy" Sanders could play the fiddle, and was getting paid to do so when a young girl in the June Bug band with her brothers. This was in the roaring twenties, and early thirties. A  brutal time period in our nation's history. And grandma was playing the clubs in southwestern Missouri. You see, Arkansas was a dry state, and Oklahoma had just become a state, after having been Indian country. So the southwestern corner of Missouri was a bit like the Las Vegas of it's day, filled with saloons.

I had already heard Roger Miller blow my mind by playing the "Orange Blossom Special" on his fiddle, in harmonics! Now anyone who had not seen Roger Miller in person, probably would never have dreamed he was a great musician. The "King of the Road" Miller, was one of the most accomplished fiddlers I've ever seen. And I've seen the good ones.

But old J.P. Fraley could play circles around those folks. In 72, the only time I saw him, he was already an old man. So I have to assume he was born right around the turn of the twentieth century. He was from the Appalachian Mountains, and I believe from Kentucky, but don't hold me to that last part. But Tom Flanagan and I spent what seemed like hours in that tent with J.P. His show was officially over, and we thought we'd missed our opportunity.

But Tom walked up to J.P. and brazenly said he couldn't quit yet! Tom was like that. Very confident and a very good friend. Sadly, we lost touch over the years. But I will always remember Tom, if for nothing else, for introducing me to J.P. And Fraley didn't let us down, no sir! He played and played for what seemed like hours. He said at first that he'd play one more song for us, what did we want to hear. Well, being more ignorant of traditional music than in later years, we both asked for the "Orange Blossom Special." Apparently J.P. didn't get a chance to play that song as often as he would have liked in their show, and he smiled real big when we requested that song. And he cut down on it.

Well, spellbound wouldn't be an adequate adjective to describe my astonishment. Were I a cobra in a basket, my head would have been held high and swaying. Charmed, enthralled, hypnotized, none are adequate. And our smiles must have been just the fuel old J.P. needed, because he began to play and dance.

Now, it was just we three inside the tent, as the flap was closed, but I can imagine the crowd that must have gathered outside, drawn by the enticing music. This old man, at least in our eyes, was hopping about, sawing like crazy, and playing the absolute best fiddle I'd ever heard then, or ever have heard since.

Well, when you reach my age, you start thinking of your past, and evaluating your life. Meeting and hearing J.P. was one of those shining moments you cherish. And that time, when I was eighteen, opened my eyes to what was possible with a musical instrument. Doesn't mean I ever got there, but I knew getting there was possible. Thanks J.P.

A Rather Interesting Keepsake

I have previously mentioned my career as a musician began at age four, when my mother enrolled me for piano lessons. That previous year of 1956 marked my first purchase of a record. I bought "Hound Dog" by Elvis Presley.

By 1965, I had a band, and we were getting paid to play high school dances and county fairs. At twelve years old, I was oldest member of my little band. I played the organ, and I had a great drummer, Carey Barrett. Interestingly, he remains one of the best drummers with whom I ever played music. However, the rest of the fellows in my band, really couldn't play. I taught a couple a few bass lines, and we got by.

But by 1967 all had changed. Our little top forty band, was now doing material by Steppenwolf and the Beatles. However, the Beatles songs we learned were from Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band. And Carey the drummer had moved on. In fact, to my knowledge he never played drums again. A tragedy, though he went on to have a great career doing video, for ESPN at one time.

Our new drummer had just returned from San Francisco, to Missouri. And Alan Palmer remained a friend throughout life. In fact he still lives just a hundred miles away in Santa Rosa, California. Well, Alan introduced me to his friend, Riley Dawson,who I credit with teaching me to be a professional musician;. And I'll digress from this subject for a moment to pay homage to Riley.

To butcher for my own purpose a Beatles quote, it is difficult to believe that it was nearly fifty years ago today, Riley Dawson taught this boy to play. Though I entered 1967 as a keyboard player, I emerged a guitarist. Riley had talked me into purchasing an Epiphone 12 string guitar, and taught me to play it. Now, I'd been playing guitar a bit for a couple of years, but never very much. Riley changed all that. At first by the simple suggestion that if I was going to complain constantly about having to haul a keyboard around, that I should just play guitar. That sounded great because those old keyboards seemingly weighed a ton.

It wasn't playing the guitar that Riley taught me,  but rather he taught me it's proper use. This was the best thing I've ever learned about being a musician. He said, " you don't play an instrument, you use it to play the audience." In other words, you don't have to be a great guitarist, to make folks think you are. You simply have to feed them what they want. But first you must be able to read your audience very quickly. If you lose them on the first few songs, you won't get them back that night.

So you play the audience. You are a social engineer, and it's your job to make them happy. And you can play all the Led Zepplin you want, and do it with excellence, but they will hate you if they want country music, or old time rhythm and blues. And though you may be very satisfied with your rendering of difficult music to play, it won't matter. Riley said, "you see, it is never about the musician, or even his selection of songs. It is about the audience, and the selection that you must play to turn their frowns upside down." You must sacrifice any desire you may have, and play directly to theirs. And you must quickly judge their desires.

If you do this correctly, you can be a below average technician on any instrument, but get standing ovations if you offer up the correct prescription to cure their blues. Sometimes that is a Beatles song, other times something from Merle Haggard or some bubble gum group is required. So Riley said to play your three most differing songs for your first three. From that, you can judge their best response and determine your best material for the room. 

So it doesn't matter the instrument, a professional musician knows how to play the audience, and that is the only thing that matters. It is the difference between sitting at home playing what you want to play, or working. If you want to make money playing, play what they want. And if you don't know enough music to do that, don't go play, and wait until you do.

So I was fifteen years old, Alan Palmer was a few years older, and Riley was thirty six. We picked up a friend of Riley's, a bass player and vocalist who was also in his thirties. And we played honky tonks that would make Porky's from the movie of the same name, seem sophisticated. We played some real dives. But soon, our gigs got better and better, and when we emerged from those backwoods venues, we were a decent band, and worked plenty. The bass player would say we were going to do some song I'd never heard, in the key of A, and off we'd go. Riley and the bass player sailing along, while I am scrambling furiously to learn a song while performing it in public. We never practiced with the bass player, but would just meet him at gigs, so we literally learned on the job! And thankfully we learned quickly, which brings me back to the subject at hand.

Alan Palmer has a keepsake that is to die for. I will never forget when he showed me his prize possession. Two unused tickets to see a famous band. In fact two unused tickets to this band's last gig. Yes, because he couldn't go to the concert that night, those two tickets to Candlestick Park in San Francisco, were to see the Beatles.

I have no idea what those tickets are worth to a collector. I have to imagine Alan could really cash in, but it won't happen. I have seen Alan have very difficult financial times in his life but have never seen him, even for one moment, consider selling those tickets. I am unsure whether I would ever sell them also. I mean, it can't be pleasant to know you could have been at the last Beatles concert. But in the same respect, do you suppose there are any other unused tickets to see the Beatles last gig? Those Beatles tickets were worth their weight in gold, even then. I can't imagine what they might sell for today. 

In fact, when considering Alan's wonderful keepsake, I often think that if I'd purchased them intending to go to that concert, I wouldn't want them. It must play on his mind, even today. So I've wondered if they've actually been a burden to him. I think were I in his place, they would burden me with one of the most torturous questions ever, "what if?"

New Years And The Fifth World

I spent part of last night talking with my good friend, Richard C. Hoagland. Like many of my friends, he is controversial. But this isn't about debating the pros and cons of my friends, but rather Richard said something, that added to something of which I had already been thinking.

If you are reading this blog, you may have surmised that I've spent a bit of time recently, reviewing my life. I think that is very normal for someone who's turned sixty years of age. I realize that there is no particular significance to the number assigned to a birthday, other than being one year older. But the numbers that end in zero are often given significance in our lives by presenting a handy marker in time, to ponder more deeply our past. While no zero year effected me to any large degree, sixty was different. Perhaps it is because it has taken so long to get here!

Well, as I write this, I am sixty one, and looking forward to being sixty two. I suppose that implies that this review has been a lengthy process. It really hasn't seemed that long, though. Then again, at age sixty, everything is a long story.

Well, false though it may be, I now feel I've come through that review process, and I feel very good with the results. Granted, I have countless ways I might change things if given the opportunity, but since that doesn't seem possible, I am content with the results of my past. I feel very fortunate to be able to say that.

But during this review, and in order to do it properly, you must measure it against today's reality. And I have some thoughts about that. Again, it is a long story to properly set the context, so that may take a few more pieces to be written. Suffice to say, that I actually have a positive attitude toward the future for mankind. However, it ain't gonna be an easy road. It never really has been, so perhaps struggle is the constant in life.

A wise shaman once told me of a prophecy. That from 1980 to the end of 2000 a.d. is called the awakening. From 2001 to August 19, 2012 was the quickening. And that last date ushered in the fifth world. So what does that mean?

It means society awakened to a more spiritual path. That we, as a whole, began to question more deeply the meaning of our lives. We had experienced two world wars, the birth of the atomic age and mutually assured destruction in the cold war, numerous political assassinations and race riots during the sixties, the materialism of the seventies, and during the eighties, much of our experience began to sink in. We were awakening to the false paradigm of Ozzie and Harriet.

No longer could a wife and mother stay out of the workforce, and raise and manage a home. Nor could a father. But a family now required two wage earners, unless one was particularly well paid. They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. Well, as mommy and daddy moved away from the home, and into the realm of day care, and a home life with precious little free time, we began to realize how lucky we had been, and how much we wished we could raise our children like we were raised. Alas, it was never again to be the world of Ozzie and Harriet.

So we awakened to a new era of mankind. Never before had the family unit been so challenged, and actually gravely wounded. It was a new era for us all, parents and children alike. And it was a major culture shock for my own parents' generation. It was indeed an awakening.

And by the end of the year of 2000, we had evolved into something other than the great society of which we'd dreamed. Oh, our technology was growing like crazy. That wasn't the problem. The problem was the lack created by our loss of the family unit, as previously had always been the case. There was an element lacking in this new paradigm that is difficult to define, but easily felt.

And 2000 saw our election stolen. Our president had been appointed by the Supreme Court. There should have been a new election, but that would have cost money, and money was our new God. Then when 2001 arrived, the quickening had begun. It was brought in by the events of 9/11. And we've been at war in at least one place since. Our civil rights continue to be eroded. And the economy seems to ride rough seas these days. In effect, Joe Public seems to have very little to do with national decision making. And that has happened very rapidly indeed.

So where is the good news? Why am I positive? One very complex but simple thing, the internet. Historians a thousand years from now, will document the invention of the internet as one of the most significant time periods in human history, like the industrial revolution or the renaissance. For the first time, I can use a small hand held device to instantly talk to my friends halfway around the globe. And anyone can write something for the entire world to see. However, a word of caution here, our words live forever on the net, so say something you can live with. You can make a movie, record a song, or take the infamous selfie, and everyone who looks, knows. I don't think the importance of the internet can be overstated.

The net has allowed us to create social movements overnight. A prime example would be the Arab Spring. And it allows us to get almost any information we seek. Those are very powerful tools for the hands of the common man.

I will wane nostalgic for a moment, to illustrate the point. In my youth in the 1950s and in the Ozarks, it was quite a struggle to learn of the world. To write back and forth with someone in Europe could take weeks because all we had was what is now unkindly referred to as "snail mail." And to make a phone call from my grandparent's home, I had to go through an actual telephone operator. Every town had them. Maybe you've seen an old film clip of Lilly Tomlin doing her telephone operator skit. Hilarious.

I could go to most any restaurant and have a hamburger, fries and coke for a quarter. Gas was six cents a gallon. When I had my first real job, minimum wage was new, and was sixty five cents per hour. A new Chevy cost around a thousand dollars. NASA wasn't in commission until I was five years old or so, and I was in second grade when John Glenn orbited earth three whole times! I have read that the computers at NASA during the early missions had less processing speed than a low end smart phone.

So, it is a hugely different world we occupy now, sixty years later.

Perhaps you are wondering what Richard Hoagland had to say? Well, to tell you correctly would require a lesson in physics, which I am loathe to do here. Just suffice to say the physics support a very active year in 2015. And I've already seen examples. None that would matter here, but one perhaps. I got a call from someone close, just to say he liked my music. Now, my relatives hadn't said anything like that for three decades. So it was indeed special and rare. I am still glowing from that one!

And for the first time in a long time, I am writing music again. So that is pretty significant personally. I think there is a good chance the reader will experience significance, personally, in this coming year as well. It seems to be a time of very rapid change. In fact, almost like a whole new world, the fifth one.

2015, A Very Special Year To Anticipate

I am sitting here enjoying the new speakers Santa brought me. I am listening to my old band, Skyscraper. And that brings me to thoughts of this upcoming year. For it is this year when Skyscraper will celebrate our fortieth anniversary.

Yes, it was forty years ago today, that we taught this band to play. And since any statute of limitations has long run out, I'll tell the story of how we formed this band.

I began playing and writing music with Jeff  in 1972. So by 75, we had a wealth of original songs we'd written, some good and some otherwise. But we decided we'd gone as far as we could as a duo, and now needed a band. So in springtime of 1975 we set out to find one.

We'd just arrived back to Springfield, Missouri from the Phoenix area of Arizona. And Jeff lucked into finding a vacant house that was being purchased by the college, and the owner allowed us to live there while it was in escrow. And that was a very good thing, as we had very little if any money.

So it was that I talked to an old friend, who'd been playing around the area for a few years. I'd first met Steve around summer of 72. He had just arrived back to town from a little place called Vietnam. Now Steve is a trip. He comes from one of the most musical families I've ever encountered. He had a brother with a very nice voice who went on to play with a very successful local band. And a whole slew of sisters with angel voices. Some of my best memories are of playing Beatles tunes with Steve's brother and sisteres. So luckily, Steve wasn't playing with anyone at the time, so we had our lead guitarist.

And another friend, who became our band manager, knew a drummer from Memphis, Tennessee named Dan. Danny was very talented, playing harmonica, drums and adding harmony vocals. And so the great jam session was organized. I celebrated by purchasing four hits of mescaline, and on the day of the jam, we took them.

We played for fourteen hours. My fingers were bleeding. All our fingers were bleeding, but no one cared. This felt so good, and so right. Was it the drug talking, well it turns out it wasn't.

After recovering, a few days later, we realized we had three hours of original material. And it was pretty tight already. Apparently, the drug hadn't harmed our musical skills. So Injun John began to book us in clubs. And he organized a recording session. Those songs can be found at my soundcloud page listed by my bio. We cut several songs in one day, which in those days wasn't all that rare. They aren't polished, as they were only meant for demo purposes. But they aren't all that bad either.

So we did the recording, and very soon found ourselves as opening act for The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band. This was my dream come true. I'd listened to their Uncle Charlie album since it was released in 1970, and knew it forwards and back. So we were playing an open air venue, and spent the largest part of the day there. You may not realize that playing a concert is a long workday for a band. There are sound checks, then more sound checks. So you put your instrument in your hand in the morning, and don't remove it until late that night. But that being said, it is not really like working.

I spent a good amount of the afternoon jamming with the Dirt Band. I had asked Jimmy Ibbotson to write down the lyrics for Diggy Liggy Lo, which I could never really get from the record. He did, and naturally we played the song. Jimmie Faddon joined in on harmonica. And around the side of this old farm truck came John McEuen picking his banjo. And I got to play lead singer for the band. It was so easy, because I already knew all their songs.

But it was much more than a wonderful time. It was a justification, much like graduating from college. Playing with that band, and in front of all those thousands of people, qualified all those years of practice and work I'd done. And it let me know that you could achieve a dream.

Now, I'd been playing in public for nearly ten years by then, though I was only 22. And an audience was certainly nothing new to me. But this one was special and I'll never forget that crowd. Though it wasn't really the crowd, nor amazingly enough my favorite band. It was justification, pure and simple. I had spent my life, short though it was at that point, wondering what it would be like to play for thousands. Well, I found out. And there is nothing else like that feeling, when the waves of applause come back at you from those faceless bodies out there. You can see the first few rows of folks, but after that the lighting prevents seeing features. But the noise travels very well, and it is awesome when directed your way. Overpowering is a good adjective here. Again, applause was nothing new either, but I'd never before experienced it with such force. When you are in the crowd, you hear it of course. But on the stage, it seems to funnel toward you. So why do the Stones continue to tour, well there's your answer. You simply never experience such a thing except in those circumstances, so you keep yourself there.

Well, things didn't work out for Skyscraper, as it is for almost all bands. It is a very rare thing to keep any band together for long. Jeff and I continued to use the name, but Steve and Danny were gone and not replaced, and we went back to playing as a duo. But since 1975, I never again questioned my own musical ability. I constantly tried to improve of course, but I had been rewarded, and now had the only degree in music I had ever sought.

And now I've held that degree for forty years. Wow, it is difficult to put that into perspective. That time has flown by. I know all old folks love to talk about how time goes so fast, but that is just because it is true.

Life is like a long playing vinyl record. When you begin with the first song, it takes the record a long time to make one revolution. But each succeeding song goes a bit faster and faster around the turntable, and when you reach the last few songs, it is spinning around that spindle like a top, faster always. So when you look backwards from the needle, it seems a long way. But when you look where you are going, it looks like a short journey indeed. So my songs are spinning pretty fast as my fingers slow down. But any time I wish, I can mentally set the needle back forty years, and feel young again. And I do. Peace in the coming year. rw