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 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.
