Talking about memories and music, someone suggested I share this at the table:

I'm not sure where it was: somehwere in Connecticut, I think. I had just finished doing a concert when a young man came up to talk to me. I'd sung a song that I'd written about the two railroad lines that ran through my home town of Janesville, Wisconsin when I was a kid: The Chicago/Northwestern and the Milwaukee/St. Paul. There's a verse in the song that goes:

   "Fishing off the edge of the railroad bridge
    You can feel those steel rails humming
    Better put your bait and your bucket down
    'Cause the train will still be coming."

When the young man said, "I've fished off that bridge many times," I was all excited. I asked him, "Did you grow up in Janesville?" "No, I grew up in Colorado, but I fished off that same bridge." And he did. That same railroad bridge is in every small town in the United Sates. There's one right here in Derby, Connecticut where I live now. And there are Three Mile Cricks and open fields and front porches and folding chairs in every town. It's a matter of remembering that, and looking for them. They still hold the same, simple pleasures.

Jerry