“So…. Was it really that good back – when you were young?”

I looked at him, his smile a little crooked – kind of like the sarcastic edge of his question.

“Yeah,” I said, continuing to hold my gaze on him, while wondering why he was still here, at work this late and on a Friday at that.  Just about to turn 21, Winston, (we called him Winnie behind his back), was the son of old Barry Morrison, the owner of Morrison’s - which manufactured furniture, cheap furniture, selling it to stores like Wal-Mart, and various Furniture Rental places.  Winnie collected a weekly check although putting in a week of work was a rarity; in fact if you saw Winnie at all in the afternoon, especially a Friday afternoon, he'd be piled up on the old leather couch in the break room.

“My Girl” by the Temptations, was playing over the intercom, and the mood throughout the office was light and easy, a weekend looming lazy and long - since Monday was Labor Day.  I’d been telling one of my ‘stories’ about the 60’s to Darla and Sandra, the other two people who worked in the office along with me.  They often peppered me with questions about the ‘good ol days’ since I was about the age of their parents, and had even dated Darla’s Mom ‘back in the day.’

“What are you doing for the weekend?” Winnie along with his insistent questions had quietly snuck up on us, not unlike bile rising in one’s throat. Thinking of this I had to smile as I looked at this fat, rich kid, the son of the boss, and though his question was innocent enough I couldn’t help thinking that he was fucking with me, in his cute little way.  When I didn’t answer him, he propped his oversized ass on the edge of my desk, and said, “You know, I think Dad ought to quit playing that old music over the intercom, don’t you?”

“Winston I said, have you ever wondered why the old songs are still around?” As I said this, more as a statement than a question, I looked at him in “that queer way of mine” (Winnie’s words) that I employed - when examining something foreign, something un-real.  Winnie was a short 5’10”, made even shorter it seemed, by his bulk, a whopping 325 pounds according to Shelly, one of the workers who dated him for a while, that is - until he quit giving her money – and after her promotion to shift leader.  Winnie didn’t like me, and I didn’t know why, but I never failed to wonder about it, for I was one of the few who showed him any respect at all.

Not giving him a chance to answer, I continued, “Almost every time a commercial on TV has music - it’s one of our songs.”

“Ever wonder why?” I asked him again, and then before he could answer – said - “Cause we were outside the box.”

“What do you mean – outside the box?” He said, shaking his head, the ever-present sneer - just below the surface of his imitation of a serious facial expression.

“We were cruising uncharted territory back then,” I said; It was new to all of us, parents, teachers, politicians - everybody.  And nobody was prepared for it, or knew what was coming next; it was wild.

I looked at his face and saw the look of puzzlement, the look of someone wanting to understand, really understand; the same look I’d seen a thousand times before.

Cherry Bomb, a Mellencamp oldie was playing …

…that’s when smoke was smoke

…and grooving was grooving

…and dancing was everything

A great song that told of the days of my youth, describing my generation in a way - only one who had experienced it could.

17 has turned 35

I’m surprised that we’re still living

“You know what Winston, I said, guys like Mellencamp, and me…. well let me tell you in a way you might understand; we lived more ‘before’ we turned 21 than you’ll live ‘after’ you turn 21 – even if you live to a hundred.”

Another song now…… All Summer Long, a Beach Boy favorite of mine.