And how we told a boy from a girl — Whatever else might be true, I LOVE this song beyond both reason and emotion: I haven’t heard a version of it that I don’t find stirring, cathartic even, but somehow this is the version that kicks me the hardest, that makes me want to cry and I don’t know…

Well-built with care — That’s my new stereo cabinet/record cabinet above. It’s made of pine with an early American stain and satin finish. Eventually, my turntable will sit on top, and beneath, I’ll file my very favorite albums — the ones I can’t live without, representing all genres and periods. I can’t quite estimate…

Sometimes it’s hard to tell the good times — One of the biggest and most unlikely pop hits of 1970 was Kris Kristofferson’s country standard, “For the Good Times.” Ray Price, basically a country singer who had already scored multiple hits on both the Country and Pop charts back in the late ’50s and early '60s, delivered this adult-themed…

As the past, present, and future become one — “I only miss you here every now and then Like the soft breeze Blowin up from the Caribbean’ Most Novembers I break down and cry But I can’t remember If we said goodbye…” — Steve Earle How is it possible to miss deeply what’s still there? It’s possible because I…

When Thanksgiving and rivalries get the best of us — I’m trying to process the post-Thanksgiving blues. Or at least understand them. Our family was together over these past few days and some are still with us. Sure, we miss those who’ve departed permanently, and no matter how often or lovingly I recreate the turkey, dressing, cranberries, and squash casserole…

Reflecting on what was hidden and true — The truth finds you from unforeseen sources, crossing from seemingly unrelated avenues. I’m currently reading Max Marshall’s Among The Bros: A Fraternity Crime Story (Harper 2023) about the gangster druggy life, fraternity style, mainly set in my state’s semi-prestigious College of Charleston. It’s a harrowing read for a parent, a…

A misadventure in music — In the days when radio DJs felt like gods to us and perhaps to themselves, it seemed possible to believe that we were all on a first-name basis. …

Refractions, reflections, and sadness — 11/9/23 (Belated) I don’t hate November, but lately I’ve slanted in that direction. Generally, I love the golden colors, and even the way the sun hits the brick wall toward the back of our house. In those rays I think of my grandmother, the brick set of apartments where she…

Or so it seemed and felt in 1963 — I was seven years old in 1963 and blissfully unaware of all that had happened just in Birmingham, AL, alone over the months leading to Thanksgiving of that year. Klan rallies, the despicable 16th Street Baptist Church bombing whose cowardly perpetrators remained at large for decades after. …