Hey, Art:

Yes, kitchen tables can be anywhere. Funny that John Harford didn't write a song about "the kitchen tables of my mind." He coulda made a fortune and bin on tee vee. You understand what I'm talking about. It's the comfort of a friendship, or even a warm conversation with a total stranger. That can happen anywhere. I couldn't really write a nostalgic song about any kitchen table other than the one in the Gate House that we sat around many times when you came out this way. When I was growing up, we had a small kitchen and a small table covered with oil cloth. Remember oil cloth? Checkered oil cloth? I wonder whatever became of oil cloth. I bet the guy who invented it thought he'd be living in the lap of luxury until fashions cruely passed him by. We ate at our kitchen table. Very utilitarian. I actually have fonder memories of our dining room table, because we only ate there on holidays, when the whole family gathered together.

In my first marriage, our kitchen table was the water hole. My sons and I were gazelles cautiously approaching to get a drink, and my wife was a lioness hiding in the tall grass waiting to pounce on me to rip me to shreds when I sat down. I'm sure there's a song there, but it's not one that I want to write.

And then there were the years I lived alone in an apartment. Kitchen tables were never meant to be for one. They're too lonely.

Now my life is joyful, with a beautiful, loving wife to share the table with me.

That looks life four verses right there... nothing nostalgic... just real life. If my life is a song, I'm glad that it has such a beautiful last verse..

Jerry