"You don't tug on Superman's cape. You don't spit into the wind. You don't pull the mask on that old Lone Ranger, and you don't mess around with Jim." (Jim Croce, 1972)
Busy as usual with morning chores. I'd finished milking and cleaning the stalls. One of the last things I do down in the barn is empty the two-gallon bucket of goat droppings over the fence into the big paddock in a pile. A welcome wind was cooling the high temps of the days before when I dumped the bucket. Guess which part of the lyrics above came into my head and which way the wind was blowing. That wasn't spit blowing back in my face.
There was a great advantage to growing up in a three-generation family. My parents were late 1800's-early 1900s. My sister was early 1920s, and me in 1940. I had, besides many other things, the benefit of three eras of music. Before television, we listened to the radio. My parents loved to dance. In fact, they met at a "tea dance." There were ballrooms and hotel lounges with live music, bands and orchestras, for dancing everywhere, and tea dances were held in the afternoon. People actually socialized face-to-face without electronics. Good dancers were in high demand. I learned the fox trot and waltzing and the Charleston as soon as I could walk; before, in fact, as my dad would dance with me in his arms long before I could walk. My sister's music was swing in the Big Band era and during the war years I learned to jitterbug from the marines and sailors who called our place home when they were on leave before shipping out. In the 1950s, rock-and-roll was the thing. I'd bring my little radio to bed and listen to "Wolfman Jack" under the covers at night. It cracks me up now to hear that music termed "classic." When my Kids came along, there were radios in each of their rooms and it was a trip to walk down the hall and hear different music behind every door. Black Sabbath and Aerosmith were favorites. I've never been able to get into New Wave or heavy metal, no offense meant.
This morning I put on a tank top as I had yesterday, opened the door for Helper Dude who is here to do some weed whacking, felt a really cold wind and came back to put on a sweater. I'll check to see which way that wind is blowing before I empty the bucket this morning. I need a new song.