I've been listening to a lot of old love songs recently. They have simple sweet lyrics and simple, sweet music. I find myself singing them when I'm washing my hair or folding clothes, or, sitting down at the piano, I play the tunes by ear and sing. It makes me feel good, and sends me back to the times before this horrid present. I forget the now and slip back 60...65...70 years into the past.
I drove my grandmother's 1959 Dodge Custom Royal Lancer convertible down to the post office the other day. It was restored a few years ago and runs just fine. It's got an automatic transmission that you engage by pushing buttons. It has power windows, automatic dimming headlights, front bucket seats that swivel out for easy entry and and exit, and air conditioning. Oh, and a honking big V-8 engine. When it was restored, a modern sound system was installed, so I was able to listen to all the old songs. Cruising down the highway, hardly ever another car on the road, it was easy to imagine that I was back in Eisenhower's America. I felt if I wished hard enough, I would be.
