Imagination takes flight at this time of year amid thoughts of spending hours in the tractor, with the radio playing those evocative songs …
Dear Son: It’s almost seeding time and your mother and I could sure use your help back here at the farm. We think it’s time for you to forget your obsession with the Rolling Stones and come back to your roots. The tractor is waiting. Love, Dad.
Dear Dad: You know my Love Is Strong for you and Crazy Mama, but You Can’t Always Get What You Want. Truth is, sometimes I think Wild Horses couldn’t get me back to being the Beast of Burden that I was before my 19th Nervous Breakdown at the farm.
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I assume from your letter that, Little By Little, you’ve tried to forget that Sad Day when I had to Play With Fire. I had been listening to Paint It Black on the radio and before I knew it, She Was Hot. I’d be A Fool To Cry over that, after all these years, but I’m still sorry I ran over the Little Red Rooster during your Emotional Rescue. That was Sad, Sad, Sad.
Yes, there were Good Times, Bad Times, but I guess it’s all a matter of Tumblin’ Dice. Maybe you have to get All The Way Down, or get Between A Rock and A Hard Place, before you finally get Respectable.
I hope the Neighbors have also forgotten the time I Shattered their baler that summer. But as I explained at the time, it only took One Hit To The Body, and that thing flew Off The Hook and into the ditch.
Anyway, It’s All Over Now and they’re probably Out of Tears by now.
Dad, I can Almost Hear You Sigh as you read this, but I do have good news. I’ve met a few Honky Tonk Women here in the city and one of them is really Hot Stuff. Her name is Angie, and she loves Brown Sugar. I had Mixed Emotions about her at first, but I also realize Everybody Needs Someone To Love.
You know, Dad, your letter got me thinking about the Natural Magic of the prairies at this time of year, when the anticipation of spring seems like Waiting On A Friend. And before you know it, it’s autumn, and Everything’s Turning to Gold.
You and Mom may be 2000 Light Years From Here, but you’re right. Maybe it’s time to Get Off My Cloud and come home. It’s Only Rock and Roll, and I Miss You and the farm.
Just don’t be Too Tough on me when I get home. Look for me on Ruby Tuesday.
Your son, Jumpin Jack Flash.
