Until a night or two past, I’d not heard it since I was a small child when this and other songs like it were staples on the dark, cold rides to work with my dad. I still remember this vintage and sort playing on the radio in my dad’s pick-up as we made the trek from Union Star to St. Joseph.

These were the days of playing with the urchins who lived in the trailer court behind dad’s shop and begging to be given leave of the “phoney bologna” sandwiches we’d packed to get something special from the lunch truck (colloquially: Roach Coach) or ice cream man. The hours of reading books on the back steps and getting lost in worlds I could only imagine and times long forgotten or helping clean the dusty shelves of product for pocket change that I immediately spent on silly trinkets and sodas. Days of pretending I was an Amazon as I shot my re-curve out the back door, hitting the target across the old dirt drive found there… the feeling of intense pride at the fact that I was all the way in the back door and still could hit the center. Making a hide out in the bushes around the side and watching people as they passed unannounced. The long days of youth that are never completely forgotten…

Still, even if the memories are strong, I’d really like my head space back, Kenny… If you please. Don’t forget to turn the lock.

Originally Posted 2012-08-15 via Facebook