Germy

I've written about this before, how music has played a large part in my life (not a unique scenario, to be sure) and how I've always been on the receiving end of a speaker's offerings; always the listener and appreciator never the strummer, key tickler, axe-man or skin-beater. Teenage years, when individuals are trying to be as individual as possible by assimilating to a subsect of culture they wish to identify with, is often when a particular genre of music becomes a part of their persona, too. Thankfully, I've spent time with many different sub-cultures -- as is often the case with skateboarding there exists an umbrella under which all types of people are welcomed and through a shared love of wooden toys with wheels, new aspects of a hitherto unknown culture is known. And as I've grown older, pieces from various times, activities, friendships and workplaces, I keep the music from those times, almost as a vehicle for revisiting and getting in touch with old fri

Getting old isn't for the young. When I was a youngster, I remember thinking that "old people" must not feel pain in the same way that a young'n would. Perhaps all the talk about a loving and benevolent creator led to this line of thinking. Then again, plenty of discussion concerning original sin and the closely held notion that our bodies are bad and must be punished (sex bad, food good) should have balanced out my feeling on the feelers of old folk. Of course, there is no mercy, even at the end of life, when it comes to pain. I also remember thinking, when I was young, that I would not forget what it is like to be young. Much of childhood is like this. Major advancements on a short schedule. Growing larger, taller. Hair here, other things there. And school, with their precise stratification, serves to magnify this making each year's milestones demarcating lines between all the children. It is difficult to remember what being a teenager was all abou