End of the Cove

"Real People" is a term my wife uses. Sly and the Family Stone sang about "Everyday People". The Rolling Stones memorialized these folk in the song "Salt of the Earth", which is probably a more common expression of who I am speaking of. I like real people. People without airs or pretense are my favorite. As a second wave punk rock bass player from about 1983 forward, I have always liked the oddballs, the fat, the ugly, the broken, the grievously flawed, the human. I don't have much traction with the dull or insipid. A certain amount of self examination on the other's part is necessary for me to relate. We both have to show up on the playing field aware of our defects. You may not know the words, we are poor, lost children of Eve, strangers and pilgrims, seeking a homeland, but you feel them somewhere deep inside your soul.  Sitting out on the front steps a minute ago as the puppy chases squirrels around the front yard, my mind was travelling over t...

 Welcome to the end of the cove. I've been here at the end of this street for almost twenty two years. My wife and I have been together almost 25. The kids, who are no longer kids, are twenty three and eighteen years of age. What this means is that their living memories all revolve around this old house at the end of the cove. We put a new roof on a couple of years ago, and that keeps the rain out along with the vinyl siding and upgraded windows that we managed to get sold somewhere along the line. We are on our third dog here and I comment on this because I note that the puppy we picked up a few months ago, is chewing on the interior door frames and marking them up pretty well. I guess you could say this old house at the end of the cove has been loved pretty hard by a lot of people and pets alike.  I am in my late fifties, and as there are really no funds in the bank account to consider retirement, so am looking straight at mister death to blink while dying in harness at my j...