Still in Cleveland. This afternoon, I found myself driving from one end of the city to the other through a raging snowstorm to visit my oldest friend. I first rode my bike to his house 34 years ago. How many people do you have in your life like that? Eh? Family doesn’t count.
The WZIP Saturday Moring Polka show was playing on my radio. The Blue Bell Polka! The Too Fat Polka! The Beer Barrel Polka! The soundtrack of my childhood. My father, who was no hero to me, always played polka music. I was ready for those old familiar feelings of simmering resentment to boil to the surface but instead I was drawn into the music and was overwhelmed with pleasant melancholy. They’re such bouncy-happy songs.
It takes a man with a steely sense of self to play the fool but I am willing to play along if it means an amusing post.
Before I left for Ohio, I made an impulse purchase on iTunes. I was about to undertake an eight hour dive all alone and I wanted a familiar album to listen to that I haven’t heard in a long time. Here’s what I ended up with:
I want yooooo-huuuuuu
To show me the way.
What the hell was I thinking? But I did sing along quite loud.