I don’t remember how young I was when I fell hopelessly in love with music. After the Second World War and this country’s massively swollen ego, all things were possible. The Fifties were Vanilla Time, a sanitized vision of what success and happiness should look like, no dirt could be found anywhere, a mirage of mediocrity. I think the music reflected the times as well.

I am not going to pretend to be a Google Genius, reinforcing my theory with fact. Why ruin a good thing? So, unschooled,  I say Marconi and the 78 RPM changed the world of music forever. All of a sudden, it could be permanent and portable. I remember my father, sitting in his armchair, listening to live, radio broadcasts from the Metropolitan Opera. At the same time, you could have recorded copies of all this stuff. Are you fucken kidding me?

Back then, parents were incredibly predictable, in terms of the behavior they would tolerate from their children. Punishments were often physical, because that’s how it was where many of them came from. Parents counterfeited themselves by playing roles, filled with the artifice of expectation. It was beginning to get a bit played out and tiresome for the growing population of young people, a looming schism in the making.

We started hearing all kinds of music. Pat Boone and Doris Day felt fake to kids like me. I didn’t buy their shit for a minute. We started hearing this special music and it felt like a secret we needed to keep amongst ourselves. Where I grew up, Frankie Lymon and Teenagers, singing “Why Do Fools Fall in Love?” was not something you ever thought about sharing with your parents.

I was around ten when Rock and Around the Clock by Bill Haley and the Comets came out. The film, Blackboard Jungle hit at the same time. From the very beginning, rebellion was the driving force with so much of this music. The most extraordinary thing began happening, kids started owning these new lyrics and rhythms, developing incredibly strong connections with the new artists.

There was still a kind of innocence about it all, the sense of empowerment and purpose had to wait until the Sixties slid in under the radar. It gets kind of tricky here, because if you weren’t there, I am not sure I can get you to understand the power of the music. It was a language only those young people under its spell could comprehend. 

Elvis’ daughter, Lisa Marie, died today. I am reminded of the King and the impact he had on people like me and millions and millions all over the world. The naïveté and repressed sexuality of the time melted under the heat of his raw, new sound. He was the Paul Revere of a new time coming.

All of a sudden, there were guys my own age, exploding onto the consciousness of the rudderless Sixties, with music we never heard before and it was unbelievable. Lyrics were stunning and melodies were mesmerizing. New music was important, very important. Rock became a religion for many of us.

Many of these Gods were around my age at the time they hit, give or take a few. It’s hard to explain what it felt like to hear Jimi Hendrix for the first time. The guy was only a few years older than me! So many artists from that time have already left and all the rest have had their dance card punched.

The departure of Jeff Beck a few days ago is what got me thinking about all this. Generally, when anybody passes, their age usually follows a comma. It reminded me how music and I have been inseparable and how long we have had this monogamous relationship.

On top of that, some of you may know that I resolved to walk to work on a regular basis, which I have religiously undertaken. My simmering love affair with these perfect tunes has been reignited as my walkin’-to-work soundtrack. It instantly became a  stepping-stone meditation, taking me down the rabbit hole of all the music I love.

When I started this story, I wanted to talk about music and throw in a little fishing news update. I couldn’t think of any kind of segue and then I realized I don’t need one, because I’ve just done it, right in front of you.

My whole thing with fishing is very recent, a little over two weeks old, just before the New Year. It started because I wanted to get out more. I had these brand new running shoes, too, part of the walking story.

Next thing I know, the place I was thinking about was a place Alika had gone fishing and that is all it took. Instantly, just like that, fishing was the thing I needed to do. All it took was that one conversation and it came to life. At the same time, you need to keep in mind that the physical world and I have a very delicate truce, frequently violated by guess who?  At the very least, I was certain it would be entertaining and easy, storytelling fodder. I need all the help I can get.

In the short time since that conversation with Alika, we now have this photograph! What the hell happened? To me, it is like somehow there is this coincidental resonance about it. I looked around the boat we were on with an incredulousness about something that barely started as a very quiet idea. 

I have the sea legs of a two-legged tripod, an environmental affliction from decades on land, where I’ve had enough challenges. Honestly, I just thought it was so wonderful to be a part of bringing some younger folks together, being part of their world, which is terribly unfair. We were in OUR world on the boat and it was yet another fishing adventure from yours truly.

Even though I crapped out with some kind of literary transition, I just wanted to share both, the story of me and my music and the forever dreams of the kid in every fisherman. 

Our imagination is our humanity.