The house is a bit of a mess at the moment. When I say “the house,” I mean “My office,” as I’m getting some shelving put up to try and get a bit more organized.When I say “a bit of a mess,” I mean “OH MY GOD! IS THAT THING MOVING?”"
So, more detritus from the past has floated to the top of various stacks, making me go “cool – I’d totally forgotten about that. (Although the “I’d totally forgotten about that” part is actually a lot more common to my vernacular than you might suspect – especially when dealing with editors.)
If the Past is a Foreign Country, I’m in Disneyland Paris at the moment.
Item the first:
My mom was in high school when she was assigned the task to ask someone famous “What is perfection?”
So she sent a letter to J. Edgar Hoover, and another to Albert Einstein.
Guess who wrote back?
(These are photocopies of the original – no, if I had the original here, it would NOT be in a pile of junk in my closet).
My mom rocks.
Item the Second:
Prolly as far as you can get from Albert Einstein, without actually being J. Edgar Hoover.
Me, again. Age 30. In Rock Music Critic mode, with my best friend Tony Rogers, as we went to see Al Stewart play a festival in Milwaukee.
Yes, I’m a punk. Yes, I pogoed to the Jam, the Clash, Stiff Little Fingers, et al.
But Al Stewart’s a gawd, in my book.
And I don’t care who knows.