Memory is a funny thing. You can go years (in my case decades) and not remember something, then a sound, a smell, a scene, something triggers the synaptic responses in your head and viola! A memory comes back.
I had a pretty crummy day at work, and so after dinner, I was looking at some music videos on You Tube; Bands like (of course) the Beatles, Eric Burton and the Animals, Jimi Hendrix and Band of Gypsies, Ten Years After, The Byrds…you get the idea. And a couple of thoughts popped into mind..one, that some of these band in their current revival tours, should says enough is enough…I mean some of them that are now playing like the Indian casino lounge circles, well, they sound and look like a bunch of old dudes, and definitely can’t match what they used to. Others, like the Moody Blues, or even Aerosmith, seems to defy age.
The other point is more about the pleasant memories that a stimulating song can invoke.
Like I said, I was looking around at different videos, and I hit on Ten Years After, Good Morning Little School Girl. It was a favorite, especially with my boyfreind, who would like to sing along when we got to
Baby, I wanna ball you every night
Oh, yeah, come on now
Geez, it was like a high school boy anthemn at the time.
But I stray. I really sat back and smiled when I clicked on Rolling Stones Jumpin Jack Flash
Instantly I was back in the summer of 1969, with my boyfriend Rich, screaming in the wind as we blasted down the highway on his Honda 450 “Scrambler”.
I remember one day he and I were talking in the driveway after school, him sitting on his bike, and my dad came out and said it was time to come in now. I smiled, and he said he would call me, which made me goofy, and I wandered in the house. As I plopped down on the sofa, my dad, in one of those father knows best attitudes says, “and I never want to see you riding with him on that thing young lady” We ‘discussed’ that, and I think I likely stomped upstairs to my room to pout. I did that a lot between 15 and 17- Go upstairs , slam door to add effect, throw myself on the bed, and stare at the ceiling...usually i would turn on my stereo, and play something I knew dad would freakout over, like the above mentioned song, which made him constantly ask my mother if i was "a GD Hippie" and how would that look, him being a cop and his oldest daughter-only daughter- a common street whore. How hippies became whores I never figured out . It was actually my brother that was more to be a hippie than me. In high school, when i was a senior and he a freshman, he had longer hair than I did, little freak. (Pretty funny, now he's old and bald 
Later, when Rich did call, he said this weekend lets go to the city. I asked what city? He said “you moron, San Francisco, it’s also called the City” Like I suppose to know or something?
When Saturday came, my dad was working, so I told mom I was going out to my friend Joan’s house. She always covered for me and me her. I walked over to Rich’s house, which was just down the street. He came out of the garage with a white helmet, and said I had to wear it; I think it belonged to his little brother, because when he came out of the house, he was upset “she” was wearing it…like I was going to give him cooties or something.
I must have had some pedal pushers or something on, which I will explain how I know in a second. So we took off, and in a few minutes we were on the highway, then the freeway (interstate 80) and on our way to the City by the Bay… How I know I was wearing some short pants is because about half way there, he turned his head back and yelled at me to really hold on, we were coming to a curve, and for some reason, I hugged him really tight, and also moved my legs in, and burned my calf on the muffler, not bad, but crying out loud is pretty much what I did. I still have a small mark on my leg, nothing bad, but it hurt.
I was really smitten with him, all the way through high school, even though we “broke up” about ever three months. I sure am glad I went to college though. He always made me feel good, but at the end of high school it was like I realized I didn’t want what he wanted. I think he wanted me to marry him, even though I told him I was going to college and couldn’t if we did something stupid. He got mad at that, and that was the last time we spoke for 20 years. He ended up being a manager at a theater, not a bad job I guess. At the 20 year reunion he walked over to me his wife (I guess, she never did speak), and was kind of aloof, like I missed out on not being with him. My honey came over with our drinks and started talking to him, and asked what he did. Rich said he managed a Cineplex in town, and Honey smiled and said “Canice is in management also, she is area supervisor for Greyhound Package Express”. Rich looked at me and said 'Really?", and I reached in my purse and handed him my card, “Yes, really.” I think I was really nice to my honey that night when we got home
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