Name Confusion
When Hilda stepped out the back door and saw the Texas Gulf Coast sunset, she couldn’t decide whether to burst out singing “You light up my life” or “Come on baby, light my fire . . .”
The Hills Are Alive
Every morning, as the herd climbed up the slope to the grassy hillside to feed, Eunice (middle, skylined) would burst out with at best a fair version of “The hills are alive . . .” even though everyone was sick to death of that song, sung by anyone. Why couldn’t she change up to “Do You Know The Way To San Jose?,” “Satisfaction,” “Light My Fire”, “I’ve Got You Babe”, “Viva Las Vegas”, or even “I Was Born This Way”, or “The Hokey Pokey”–anything but “The Hills Are Alive . . .?”
Light My Fire
People often wonder what inspires a poet or song writer. While on tour and doing a show in Houston, Jim Morrison and the band had a day’s layover and decided to take a drive through the coastal bayou country. The sunset was stunning, and the rest is history . . .
Light My Fire
Herby always hummed as he worked in the yard, sometimes one of Bach’s Brandenburg Concertos–say, #6 in B flat–or Dave Brubeck’s “Take Five”, or the Rolling Stones’ “Harlem Shuffle”. For some reason, he just couldn’t get Jim Morrison and the Doors’ “Come On Baby, Light My Fire” out of his head tonight . . .