Taking Care of Business
After cleaning the house and putting in 250+ edits (for 12 pages, and if you think that's bad, you should have seen the first draft), it was already almost 3 and I still had my full set of stomach/hip/back exercises to do (which take about 45 minutes).I had nothing. I was desperate.
So I put on Bachman Turner Overdrive's Greatest Hits, not because it was going to help much, but because that album is tied to a specific moment in my life.
Summer before junior year in high school, to be exact.
The #1 tennis player on the team was named Jeff W, and he was cool. Not with the asterisk "tennis cool," either. He could have played any sport he wanted, and the way he played tennis--by serving and volleying, along with hitting big topspin on his forehand--was physical in a way that none of us could copy. He was extremely popular, and life seemed easy for him.
Life often turns out not easy at all for those people, but I digress.
He was playing a league match at the tennis center one late afternoon, and I was a few courts down practicing my serve or something. He came swaggering in with a boombox, and when his opponent came a few minutes later, he asked if playing music was okay. His opponent didn't care, so he slapped in a cassette tape of BTO's Greatest Hits.
The weather was perfect. The sun had gone down just enough that it wasn't glaring on the court. And cool Jeff was demolishing the guy he was playing while BTO played in the background. I hit serves and snuck a look whenever I could and it was the greatest day ever.
It's been 46 years, and I never hear BTO without thinking about that day.
I made it through the exercises, which were hell on a hot biscuit today. Thanks, Jeff.
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