Glenn Frey on a Friday Night

You hear that song, and back in time you go.  I'm in high school and it's a warm Friday night.  I'm riding in my mom's Chevy Monza with the Villegas sisters, and we're on our way................somewhere.  To a basketball game, or Round the Corner, a party at someones house, or, where ever. Couldn't tell you for sure, because that could have been any given weekend, any given Friday, and everywhere you went, the Eagles were the soundtrack.  I'd sit in my room and read the lyrics to Hotel California over and over.  Trying to figure out what it meant. And I never figured it out.  Sure I've read all the explanations.  But it's more fun not to know for sure.

Music resonates in our soul like little else can.  It can enhance any mood.  Joy or sorrow.  Anger or peace.

So with a text on my phone from a friend who gets it,  I heard of Glenn's passing.  Turned the dial to KBCO, and sure enough there was Hotel California.  As I drove down the highway, I turned it up LOUD.  And was 17 again, for just a few minutes.

The Eagles were amongst the Rock Stars of my youth.  We listened on the radio, and bought the album (and even Witchy Woman on a 45 in Junior High), and read about them in Rolling Stone.

Too soon, and uncomfortably close to my age.  Let the tributes roll, as I'm sure they will.

He was a gift.


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