I’m eighty-five— though the number sits beside me more than inside me. Some mornings I rise feeling sixty, still curious, still willing to wander. At night I dream in the language of thirty, doors still opening, roads still unnamed. And sometimes—without apology— seventeen returns, grinning.
On CBS nightly news the announced the death of JJ Cale by saying, “You may not know his name, but the know his music.” Well, yes, for many of younger generations, but I know the name and his music. He set the tone of music for the last half of the 20th century — may he rest in peace! The master of music not to love!
Image Source — Google.com
