We got to find a way/To bring some lovin' here today
I grew up in rural America, in a geographic curiousity...a peak within a flatland surrounded by swamps where castles fell in and farmlands where the wavin' wheat sure smelled..somethingsomethin' or other.
Our radios naturally fell to Detroit radio stations. They kicked major ass.
We always had the radio on. Always. Motown and soul, classical on Sunday mornings, baseball in the summer with Ernie Harwell calling the play-by-play. 70s rock and later Saturday Night Fever, with breaks to advertise Vernors ginger ale, Maaco, Wonder Bread, and Chevrolet.
My childhood is a soundtrack.
In those young years of mine, those lazy-bee-blanket-tent-Kool-ade days, it was the men, the soul men, who strummed the center string, even then sending shivers down my country-tanned body to my cooter and back up to the tingly nape of my neck.
I was thinking about them this morning. I sat here in the dark, chair dancing and goosebumpy, gooshing and breathless, with my eyes tearing up from pleasure.
For your listening and viewing pleasure, I give you The Reverend Al Green, Mr. Otis Redding, Mr. Marvin Gaye, and the inimitable Barry White.
The Good Reverend:
Mr. Marvin Gaye:
Mister Barry White: