Congratulations to Kevin Tracy

Kevin and his bride, Sandy, recently took a trip to the Dakotas. I’m not sure which state he visited last, but either North or South Dakota became number fifty for him. He can now proudly say he has seen all fifty states!

I’m one of those fortunate individuals who can not only say, “Well Done!” I can also say, “Welcome to the club!” However, I don’t know if there is such a club for people like us.

I completed the tour in 2002

I’m not sure when I was smitten with the idea of visiting all of our United States, but I know from whence the bug came. My sister, Gertrude Cronin, became aware of her possibility to achieve that goal after her children were grown and she started traveling with her husband whose job took him to many different parts of the country. In addition, her elder son made a career of the Air Force and found himself living in numerous states. My sister had no choice but to travel to see her grandchildren.

As it turns out, between IBM sending me to the far reaches of the continent and a family vacation taken in 1984 (twenty-nine states and 10,000 miles in six weeks) I quickly caught up with her. In fact, I beat her!

And she is still sitting at forty-nine. The one state that has eluded her is Hawaii. I returned to the island state a few years ago, but was unable to convince her to join us. I keep hoping to hit the lottery so I can take her while she is still able to enjoy it. Gertie is now 86 and remains in excellent health with a good clear mind. We need to get her there while she still looks good in a bathing suit!

Perhaps someone with the Hawaiian visitors and convention group will offer her a paid vacation. But let me forewarn them: she refused to go with us because we visited three of the islands… staying in hotels and condos, and flying between the islands. She wanted to take a cruise so she’d only have to unpack once at the beginning of the trip and pack once at the end.

Picky! Picky! Picky!

In any case, I know how I felt after seeing my fiftieth state. I imagine Kevin feels the same. Well done, Kevin!

Grandsons

Between us, my bride and I have thirteen grandchildren – seven girls and six boys. In the past, I’ve displayed photos of them all and written about them all. Today, I’ll focus on just one… for two reasons. First, his father sent us a great picture of him attending his first Atlanta Braves baseball game. Second, I just read a great poem in Looking Back, a magazine about the good old days.

First, the photo:

Daniel Leeds - A number one baseball fan

Now the poem. It was written by Douglas Raymond Rose.

Grandpa’s Mirror

I saw myself today,

Running fast in the sun.

Barefoot and tanned was I,

Having all sorts of fun.

I saw myself today,

Down by the ol’ fishin’ hole,

Pole and stink-bait both in hand,

Thrilled and happy of soul.

“Where’d you see yourself?” you ask,

“That granted you so much joy?”

I’ll tell you: I watched my own grandson,

I watched myself in that dear barefoot boy!

Youth in Asia

Being a member of the Medicare brigade, and having many friends likewise saddled with such silly labels, I’ve been receiving tons of emails warning me of the evils of the proposed health care reform. Some even refer to it as a deformity.

What I can’t understand is why so many of my peers are so concerned about the Youth in Asia paragraphs. To be honest, I don’t think we should be extending medical benefits to anyone outside of the United States… regardless of their age.

Seriously, the way the administration’s spokespeople talk about the required conferences designed specifically for us old farts, they are not required, and they are only trying to get old folks to face the reality of their impending doom.

Since I have yet to have my first conference, I will withhold judgment.

In truth, what upsets me the most with this planned legislation is the same thing that keeps me from getting bent out of shape over the details. At this point, no one knows for sure what will be in the final bill.

What upsets me more is that most of our representatives in Congress won’t take the time to read any of it… beyond the ear mark amendment each of them will add to make the bill even more incomprehensible.

It seems to me that each of our elected ‘professional’ politicians has a large overpaid staff. So why don’t they assign a number of pages to each staff member and ask them to report back? Perhaps because they won’t have a ‘final’ copy until minutes prior to the vote.

This is OUR government working for US.

As a youngster, my father often quoted Will Rogers. The most fitting comment that sticks in my mind is that “We have the best government money can buy!”

I keep wondering what – beyond getting re-elected – will the politicians get out of passing legislation designed to make some individuals rich by milking the tax payers dry?

In Memory of a Wonderful Brother

To the family, he was always Somers.

When he was born, a minute or two after his older brother, he was named Lewis Somers Leeds. The ‘Lewis’ was in honor of Dad’s brother; the ‘Somers’ was in honor of one of Dad’s best friends, Somers Kears.

The birth of the twins occurred on June 24, 1928. At that time, Uncle Lewis was in his early forties and there was still a possibility that he would have a son of his own. To avoid any future problems, Mom and Dad decided to call their son, Somers.

Fourteen years later, our parents had another son. Since Uncle Lewis and Aunt Nellie were still childless, Mom and Dad decided to do things a little differently this time around. They named this son Douglas, in honor of General Douglas MacArthur, and Lewis, after good old Uncle Lewis. But this boy would be known as Lewis.

Life was simple. We had a brother named Somers and a brother named Lewis.

When Somers went into the Navy in 1944 at the age of sixteen, the officers insisted he be called by his first name. Thus, Somers became Lewis to his fellow sailors and, eventually, to his friends and acquaintances back home.

Thus, when I was a boy, answering the phone was fun. When the caller asked for “Lew”, I’d respond by saying, “Which one?”

First-time callers assumed they were dealing with a father/son situation and asked to speak with the son, to which I’d reply, “Which one?”

Eventually a code was developed. Somers was “big” Lew and Lewis was “Little” Lew.

Now you know where Bob Newhart and his writers came up with Larry, Darryl, and Darryl.

Laughter. That’s a word that is extremely fitting when we remember Somers. He was always fun-loving and could tease with the best of them. My problem is I never knew for sure when he was teasing. All too often, I took his antics seriously.

Having two brothers sixteen years older than me was both a blessing and a curse. At times, it was like having three fathers. And I tried to please all three of them. There were many times when Somers could not be pleased, but I never knew for sure if he was serious or just teasing me.

One time we were working on Gert and Mac’s back porch and Gert offered to make us sandwiches for lunch. The sandwiches were simple; jumbo baloney, yellow mustard, and bread. Somers insisted that Gert put his mustard on the bread and not the meat. When she handed him his food, he complained that she had gotten mustard on his meat. I know he was teasing, but he sure sounded angry.

When Somers first got out of the Navy, he was hired as an office worker for American Standard.

But let me interrupt this part of the story to provide some background information.

After Somers’ first hitch with the Navy Sea-Bees, he re-enlisted. His second tour of duty took him to Cuba and then to South Africa. It was in South Africa that he came down with Hepatitis. It took a Congressman named Jim Fulton to pull some strings to get Somers transferred back to the states and sent to the VA hospital in Aspinwall. Within a short time he was released and Mom nursed him back to health at home.

I think I was always a little jealous because there were certain food items, like orange marmalade, that were reserved for him.

I bring this up only because it points out the beginning of this numerous health problems – all of which he basically ignored as he tried to live his life to the fullest.

Shortly after beginning his job with American Standard, he was transferred to New York City. Every morning we’d watch Dave Garroway in hopes of seeing Somers waving at the camera.

Living in New York City was not to his liking. Nor was wearing a suit and tie and working in a building. He soon quit that job and became a truck driver for Fort Pitt Supply and began delivering bath tubs and other plumbing supplies. All too often he’d arrive at a building site and find no one there to help him unload his truck. Of course, there were probably times when there were people there and he carried the bath tub on his back anyway. I don’t think he was showing off. I think he just believed he could do a better job by himself.

Those heroics led to a number of back surgeries and, eventually, to chronic back pain. There’s little doubt that those physical exertions added to his painful knees as well.

The knees were probably originally injured while Somers was playing sports. In his youth – and beyond – he played every sport imaginable.

I remember playing center field when he was on the other team. If I played deep, he’d hit the ball in front of me. If I moved in, he’d hit it over my head. I think he had a lifetime batting average of well over 500. Even in slow pitch softball, that was an impressive feat.

Of course, his worst enemy in sports was his own drive for perfection. When playing golf, he was known to bend a few clubs around trees and threw a club or two into the nearest body of water.

And who could forget the time he dropped a bowling ball out of a fifth floor window when he didn’t do as well as he thought he should have.

Speaking of back porches. There was a time that Somers, Seward – also known as Bill – and I were building a back porch on our parents’ home. Seward and I were measuring and cutting the floor boards and Somers was nailing them down. If a board wasn’t cut exactly to his liking, he threw it back at us. It wasn’t long before our scrap heap was getting bigger than our pile of new lumber.

Then Somers got a phone call. While he was on the phone, Seward and I nailed all the rejected boards in place. When Somers came back outside, he had a total conniption and told us we’d turned the porch into something a hillbilly might be proud of. Then he got in his car and left.

After we got all the boards nailed down, we took the circular saw and cut the edge so that everything was even. Somers never mentioned that topic again.

The enigma I saw as my brother with a bad temper and a strong need to be a perfectionist was balanced out by the brother who would let me use his car for an evening of fun with my buddies or a date. He’d also give me money for the date and let me use his credit card to fill the gas tank.

This is also the man who would rent an Easter Bunny costume and sit in Vrabel’s Dairy Store window coloring eggs. He would then have me drive him to various hospitals so he could give eggs and candy to children who were spending the holiday dealing with their illnesses or injuries.

I have so many wonderful memories centered around my brother. Like the time he was helping me fish by casting the line for me. I was – and still am – hopeless when it comes to casting without getting the line all tangled. The fish I caught while he was trying to convince the game warden that he was not fishing – but simply helping his little brother – cost him twenty-five dollars.

Perhaps that’s why, when he took me with him on his truck, he would intentionally grind the gears and blame it on me. Every time the gears would grind, I’d get punched on the arm.

While Somers was still reasonably young, Fort Pitt Supply went out of business. Somers soon got a job with Dilner’s West Elizabeth shipping facility. His job was to load and unload barges. One day, the captain of the tug boat pulled out while Somers was caught between a barge and the dock. That caused his most serious back injury and ended his days of working for a living.

Unfortunately, his more serious health problems resulted from the asbestos with which he was in constant contact while on that job.

So the last few years of his life were spent in pain with his back and knees and the breathing problems from his lung disease. And yet I’m sure none of his siblings would have been surprised if we’d received a phone call from him announcing that he was at the airport and needed to be picked up. He had a habit of surprising us with his visits.

He also had a habit of letting people know they were loved. All four of my children refer to Somers as their favorite uncle… even after I told them how he would wake me up in the middle of the night and tell me it was time to get ready for school.

The man had a heart of gold and was loved by many. He’ll be deeply missed by us all.

Back to the Age of Idealism

Last evening my bride and I attended a concert at the Holly Theater in Dahlonega, Georgia. The attraction was Banks & Shane with Mike McDonnell performing a tribute to the Kingston Trio. Banks & Shane have been performing in the Atlanta area since the early 70’s. Banks Burgess and Paul Shane at one time owned a couple of supper clubs and continue to be popular performers well beyond the confines of metropolitan Atlanta.

If you are a big fan of the Kingston Trio, you might have noticed that Paul Shane has the same last name as Bob Shane. Bob Shane was not only one of the original members of the Kingston Trio, he eventually became the only remaining original to continue performing with the group. Bob finally stopped performing in 2005. We were told that Paul is the nephew of Bob. Because of the relative connection, the Kingston Trio were frequent performers at the Banks & Shane establishments.

Needless to say, last night we were treated to a wonderful dose of nostalgia. Mike McDonnell did a marvelous job of joining Banks & Shane to perform all our old Kingston Trio favorites.

A point of interest concerned a young lady in the audience. Jessica Broman was there with her father, Jack, who is a professor at North Georgia College and State University. Jessica is a student at the college and had no idea what to expect. Her initial reaction (before the show) to the idea of  ‘folk music’ was what you’d expect from someone who has sung folk music from various countries. She truly had no idea what to expect.

Her reaction afterward was what we had hoped. She really enjoyed the music.

One of the last songs performed by the trio was ‘Where Have All the Flowers Gone?”

That song was extremely popular when I was a freshman in college back in 1962. While Vietnam had not yet exploded into the unpopular war that caused so much pain in later years, it was seen by us idealistic youngsters as one more bloody conflict that should be stopped.

We, rightfully so, believed that all wars are disgraceful and a tremendous burden. Young people are sent to die because old men in positions of power cannot work out their differences in a peaceful, civilized manner.

The Peace-niks of the era had everything right… with one major exception. They blamed the soldiers and treated returning veterans in a despicable manner.

In 1962 – forty-seven years ago – I was as idealistic as my classmates. We were all just as idealistic as the war protesters of today. We believed that all armed conflict could be avoided if leaders would simply sit down at a conference table and work out their differences.

As I recall, when the United States, South Vietnam, and North Vietnam finally agreed to peace talks, it took weeks, if not months, to agree on the shape of the conference table. Obviously people in the position of power enjoying wielding that power in whatever ways possible – even if their actions are seen as ludicrous by us simple folk.

Forty-seven years, and numerous armed conflicts and terrorist attacks later I’ve come to realize that stopping all wars is still the ideal. It’s just not realistic. As long as there is evil in the world, peace loving people are left with a choice – fight the evil, or be controlled by it.

Personally, I would not wish to be a subject of Idi Amin, Adolf Hitler, Saddam Hussein, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, Kim Jong-il, or any other tyrant.

The bottom line says what is idealistic is not always realistic. Based on what I’ve seen in my lifetime, that’s not going to change anytime soon.

But it was nice to be transported back to my Age of Idealism by the music of the Kingston Trio.

What’s Come and Gone in my Life Time – Part 1

My first home - beginning in 1944

As I race toward my sixty-fifth birthday, I find myself wondering how much I take for granted each day. Many new things have appeared during my life-time. And a lot of things have quietly disappeared into the past.

I began listing them alphabetically.

A = The Apple Computer is obviously new; all personal computers are. As for the big old mainframes, they have also come into existence after I did. Alaska was a United States territory until I was a teenager. Air conditioning was around, but not very common. More common were the air vents located just in front of the windshield on many cars. A lever below the center of the dash board was used to open and close the vent.

B = Box top premiums were big when I was a lad. We’d send away for plastic submarines that could be loaded with baking soda and played with in the bath tub. Bon Ami was a cleanser used to remove the ring around that same tub after the dirt on my body was transferred to the water. Bonomo’s Turkish taffy came in three flavors – vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry – and could be eaten in one of two ways. You could try to bite off a chunk which left a long stretchy portion in both your hand and your mouth. Or you could slam the bar down on a hard surface causing it to shatter. Then you could eat the small peices and make much less of a mess.

C = Carburetors were found under the air filter on most cars until electronic fuel injection took over. Any one who has had to try to adjust the fuel and air mixture on a carburetor appreciates the advancements in that area.  The CRT (also known as the CAT scan) took the X-ray to a new level and has become a powerful diagnostic tool. The other CRT (Cathode Ray Tube), has basically come and gone during my time on earth; It was new technology when we sat around watching that thirteen inch television, but has since been replaced by the flat screen Plasma, LCD, and others. Coal furnaces were everywhere in the North when I was growing up. Natural gas has replaced them all.

D = Disk memory is something that is still around, but utilizes totally different technology. In fact, I have ‘flash’ drives that hold more data than all the disks I ever installed while working at IBM. Dick Tracy, as far as I know, bit the dust many years ago, and took Prune Face, Flat Top, B.J. Plenty and all the other characters with him. Decoder rings offered by the Little Orphan Annie radio show, Captain Midnight, and others were among the Box Top premiums that are not longer available. The DeSoto automobile left the scene before I was old enough to drive.

E = The Edsel somehow became equated with all automotive lemons. As far as I know, that is a terrible mistake. I knew one person who owned an Edsel and he was very fond of it. Unless my memory is totally off base on this one, I’d say the Edsel was a fairly decent car… but the Ford Motor Company did a lousy job marketing it. Electric eye head light dimmers were a standard feature on Cadillacs for many years. When the device picked up the light from on-coming cars, it automatically switched the car’s headlights to low beam. It was a nice device – when it worked properly. Maybe they were never able to get it to work properly, because I haven’t seen it in years.

F = Full Service gas stations not only checked your oil and the air in your tires, they cleaned your windows and gave you saving stamps. Today, we’re hard pressed to find a station that will pump your gas… period. Unless, of course, you’re driving through New Jersey. In that state, self-service is against the law. Talk about strong labor unions. Floor mounted dimmer switches have long ago been replaced by an added feature on the turn signal lever. Would you believe that turn signals were not standard equipment in my youth? We had to put our arms out the window to signal our intentions. Frozen custard is the thing I miss the most. It was similar to soft serve ice cream but tasted far better. My guess is it contained raw eggs.

G = Gas grill. That’s right. We didn’t have the argument among the Bar-B-Que kings. The only option was charcoal. Wait, I’m probably wrong on this. Some folks might have used wood.

Look for Part 2 sometime in the future.

Eat at Joe’s

The next best thing

Joe’s Bar & Grill is long gone. Joe’s was the place my brothers and I frequented for a number of years. In fact, both of the twins tended bar at Joe’s from time to time.

Alexion’s is a neighborhood bar introduced to the Ingram softball team by the team that represented the St. Paul Roman Catholic Seminary. They were our biggest rivals for a number of years, but we often shared a few pitchers of beer at Alexion’s following our hard-fought games. I took that picture in 2008. I’m guessing the establishment is still doing business.

Joe’s bar was run by Joe and Emma Haberstroh – a German couple who eventually sold the place, retired, and moved back to Germany. The people who bought the bar cleaned and painted the place – removing all the atmospheric dirt – and it was never the same.

Joe’s is on my mind today because our local Thrivent for Lutherans chapter is planning a good old-fashioned summer picnic to be held at Christ the King Lutheran Church in August.

Joe’s used to host three picnics every summer. Joe’s was the Elliot section of Pittsburgh’s version of Cheers. It was the place where everyone knew your name. The regular customers were a good group of people who liked to eat, drink, and sing.

Joe had an extremely large fishbowl brandy snifter that he kept on a shelf behind the bar. It could probably hold more than a gallon of liquid. But Joe used it to hold money… the contributions made by the regular customers.

I doubt if Joe and Emma (Emma did all the cooking and acted as the waitress) ever received a tip. But customers left money on the bar and tables to be added to the brandy snifter. That money accumulated all year long and was used to finance the picnics.

The picnic planning committee would reserve a place with a shelter and a ball field. (The best place also had a dance hall!) On the morning of the picnic, the regular customers would show up at the bar bright and early and start loading their cars. There were cases of beer and soda, large pots and pans, and many coolers filled with food and ice.

When we arrived at the picnic grounds, Emma would set up her portable kitchen and start cooking hot dogs and sauerkraut, corn on the cob, Pittsburgh Bar-b-que, and other tasty treats to go along with the potato salad and coleslaw she’d already prepared. The food table would also be piled high with cold cuts, cheeses, and various types of bread and rolls.

In the meantime, laundry tubs were filled with beer and soda and lots of ice.

Soon, the horseshoe games were set up along with the volley ball and badminton nets. Softball games were started and people who weren’t interested in any of those activities were tossing Frisbees or footballs. If a swimming hole was close by, many of the teenagers would head in that direction.

Yes, these were family picnics. Everyone was invited to bring their entire families.

At some point, the organized contests began. The three legged race, the sack race, and the egg toss were among the favorites. One year one of my brothers rented a very heavy stuffed bull. Contestants grabbed the ‘bull’ by its rope tail and threw it. The technique used was similar to the Olympic Hammer throw.

In case anyone is unfamiliar with the hammer throw…

Now, imagine someone using a similar technique to throw a stuffed bull.

Interestingly enough, the people who threw the most bull at the bar were not among the top finishers of this event.

Once the sun set, a bonfire was lit. We’d all gather around the fire and someone would start the singing. We sang all the old time favorites – Shine on Harvest Moon, By the Light of the Silvery Moon, I’ve Been Working on the Railroad, and many others.

While the older folks were singing and enjoying the fire, the younger kids were busy catching lightning bugs and teenagers were spending time in the dance hall or simply walking in the moonlight.

All too soon, it was time to pack up and head home. Everyone had had a wonderful time. If it was June, we’d start looking forward to the July picnic. If it was August, we’d start looking forward to next summer… and encouraging everyone to be generous with their donations to that brandy snifter.

Turn in the Buns

Some random thoughts for June 8, 2009.

As a hot dog vendor at Forbes Field in Pittsburgh, I quickly learned to turn in the buns. That was back in the day when you could buy a really good HOT dog (we had a charcoal burner to keep them that way) for thirty-five cents.

The device we used as we sold the ‘red hots’ was fairly ingenious. It was a stainless steel shell that had openings for several items. The first thing to go in was a small tray that held two or three burning charcoal briquettes. Then, on one side was a large container filled with hot water and wieners. A similarly shaped container holding the buns went into the other side. Across the front went containers of mustard, ketchup, and onions. Finally, we were given an ample supply of napkins.

When a customer purchased a hot dog, we’d take a bun from the one side, use our tongs to place a wiener in the bun. Then we’d add the condiment of choice and hand it over to the customer.

For every three hot dogs we sold, we earned a little over seventeen cents. We worked straight commission – seventeen cents for every dollar’s worth of stuff we sold.

When we sold all the hot dogs in our container, we’d go back to the commissary to reload. We’d have to pay for what we’d sold – keeping the seventeen percent each time.

At the end of the ball game, we’d only have to pay for what we actually sold. Thus, we turned in the buns. The person behind the counter counted the buns and determined what we owed. After paying, we had to turn in our ‘kit’ and then we could head home.

I quickly learned that the trick was to eat the leftover wieners before checking in. They only wanted the buns!

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I’m surprised no one has offered any advice on Branson, Missouri. I asked for some travel tips the other day and no one has yet responded. I guess I’ll have to rely on their Chamber of Commerce or the AAA.

Whatever happened to Duncan Hines?

Market Houses

Pittsburgh's Southside Market House

Like many of the old market houses, this one is no longer open. At least the building has not been torn down… yet.

As a young boy, my mother used to take me to downtown Pittsburgh for shopping. She always started at the department stores. After purchasing clothing or household items, we’d head for Market Square.

Market Square is still there, but the market houses are long gone.

At one time, where Forbes Avenue intersected with Market Street, there stood a group of buildings that housed the New Diamond Market. As I recall, there was a bridge connecting the second floors of at least two of the buildings.

Those old market houses could be seen as the original malls. Various vendors rented space to set up their retail outlets. There were fish mongers, vegetable stands, butchers, bakers, and maybe even a candlestick maker or two.

If our family budget allowed for it, mom would buy some nice vegetables and meat. She’d also buy smelt if those little fish looked appetizing. Fried smelt was always one of my favorites.

Unfortunately, the people who ran the New Diamond Market were not very good at marketing when it came to competing with the ’super’ markets being built in the suburbs. Eventually, all the buildings that made up Market Square were abandoned and razed. Now, there is a park that looks nice, but isn’t very functional.

The only thing left is the Original Oyster House.

They do mean 'original'

The awning tells it all. That restaurant has been at that location since 1870. It has expanded… taking over the building to the left of the original structure. The building to the right was once a C.G. Murphy’s Five and Dime. I’m not sure if it’s being refurbished or torn down to make way for something else.

The other place my mother was sure to visit while we were downtown was McCann’s Market. The distinctive feature of that emporium was the automatic bacon slicer that sat in the middle of the store. I used to love watching the bacon being sliced.

Of all the cities I’ve visited in the U.S., I can only recall one that has a vibrant old time market place. Baltimore, Maryland is the home of the Lexington Market. You can visit their web site to get a better understanding of what I’m talking about.

The Lexington Market has been in continuous operation for more than two hundred and twenty years. Obviously, they do a better job of marketing than the New Diamond Market folks did. Check out their history and their listing of events and you’ll see that they make it a place to go to do far more than shop for poultry, seafood, meat, fruits, and vegetables.

In England, France, and many other countries, market places still thrive. Many of them would shatter the confidence of American shoppers because the fresh meats, poultry, and fish are not in nice refrigerated display cases. In some instances, the perishable items aren’t even displayed on beds of ice.

Around Atlanta, they have a few farmer’s markets that offer fresh produce. But it’s not the same. I miss the old market houses where you could find practically any food item imaginable.

I guess I’ll have to plan a visit to Baltimore.

Beyond Rare

So Rare is just one of many instrumentals that were played on many radio stations while I was growing up. That was when radio stations simply played popular music. They didn’t specialize with a certain type or style of music and, as I recall, there were no such things as ‘oldies’.

Songs such as ‘Cherry Pink and Apple Blossom White’ gave musicians a chance to show off their exceptional talents.

Another of my favorite songs from that era was played at every one of our high school dances.

Of course, not all of the songs of that time were serious instrumentals.

Phil Harris had a hit song that had everyone wondering what the thing was.

Over the last decade I’ve discovered the closest thing to the music of my youth is the music played on the country radio stations. With the music of Reba McIntyre, Randy Travis, Garth Brooks, George Strait, and others, I can hear and understand the words. And most of the songs tell a story! Imagine that!

I tried to embed ‘Is There Life Out There’ by Reba McIntyre, but was unable to do so. If you want to hear the song and see the video (it’s a good one!), you’ll have to click on the title of the song.

I’d like to believe that someone somewhere is still writing instrumental music (not counting classical orchestra pieces) and somewhere there are bands playing those songs. I may not be able to trun on my radio and hear them, but it would be nice to be able to buy a record or two. Sorry. Make that a CD or two.