Friday, September 9, 2016

By the Time I Get to Phoenix

Back in 1974 the family moved the Fuzzy show on the road to Largo, Florida as Dad had a big job down there.

I was just 9 years old, but I recall so much about those days.

We had a big pond in our back yard and we all fished and played and turned dark brown in the sun. No sunscreen...four boys in brush cuts...brown.

I also recall Mrs. Hudson...the elderly Southern woman next door...she was always so happy and helpful.

Bernie and Gloria...the black couple that would help watch us and take us to 7/11.

I remember rooting for Henry Aaron, catching fish, going to the beach, hurricane winds one day, and listening to Nixon resign.

I also recall Dad's music.

He had Frank and Dean Martin. He had Roger Miller and Johnny Cash (we'd beg him to play that one) and he had a Perry Como record that included the Glenn Campbell song, By the Time I get to Phoenix.

I remember listening to that song and wondering about that singer... down in the dumps about his love (and life) being over.

And thinking about him starting again.

(I was a weird kid).

But I loved that song.

Lo and behold I read the Vanity Fair piece about Springsteen's new autobiography and his upcoming solo record.

Guess what song is on it:

By the Time I Get to Phoenix.

Pretty cool.

Another free trip down memory lane.

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