Someday, we'll all be in Davy Jones' locker. If there was a memorial sing for each individual who carried the slop-bucket forward there would be no time for regular sessions. Each time I belt out a song, I remember those who have plowed ahead of me, in the near and distant past, those whose voices plied their trade and those who carried that tradition along. Some, like Dave, Tom and Barry I saw in the flesh, others are but a thought in my mind of what history has taught us. So, as my voice reverberates off of the Press Room walls, my mind imagines that they are right there with me and I can almost hear their harmonies, edging me on to give it my best! See you tomorrow!