By Bill Morgan, Staff Writer

 

Music.

 

Ah, I just love listening to music.

 

Music gets me through depressing weather, national political turmoil, local raging citizens and news of family and friend illnesses.

 

Music got me through a lot of tough times including the following experience my wife Terri and I had to deal with.

 

All things must pass, right? But sometimes it’s hard to carry that weight. If I fell because money can’t buy me love — in spite of all the danger — I know that it’s only love.

 

The other day, Terri asked if she could drive my car, a Jeep that’s a sweet little ‘16.  Tomorrow never knows but I screamed for help across the universe, asking her to wait until we can work it out. I sent her a note saying, “When I get home, we can come together and you can ask me why I said no.”

 

I got no reply.

 

When she finally arrived, I saw her standing there and, feeling  regret I said quietly, “I’m a loser.”

 

I tried to act naturally and I should have known better, but I couldn’t just let it be.

 

“That’ll be the day,” she said mockingly in regards to driving my vehicle. “Maybe when I’m sixty-four I can.”

 

After getting nowhere, man, I asked for a little help from my friends. They said things are getting better, despite  what she said, she said.

 

Yesterday was just another day in the life of Bill & Terri — and my Jeep. Me on the roof fixing a hole  with my neighbor Maxwell’s silver hammer saying “I’m looking through you” while Terri  goes for a walk as free as a bird down a long and winding road. I couldn’t wait for her to get back as I felt lonesome tears in my eyes. I suppressed the urge to shout “this boy is crying, waiting, hoping and feeling glad all over.”

 

It was at that point I realized I got to find my baby honey pie and tell her, “baby it’s you.”

 

I made the mistake of glancing casually at my blue Jeep. Suddenly, I forgot to remember to forget. Visions of me trail riding in my car filled my consciousness here, there and everywhere. 

 

“I’ve got a feeling it’s all too much,” I said to myself, but then I remembered  — I got a woman. I just hope she’s not with some other guy.

 

“I just don’t understand,” I told myself. “I should have known better. I got to find my baby. She loves you.”

 

Like dreamers do, I imagined being a paperback writer penning to Terri the word hello, goodbye spilling from her mouth. So I turn on some rock and roll music and my thoughts become clear.

 

She finally returns and I approach her to clear the air.

 

“I’ve got to get you into my life,” I say to her face. “Do you want to know a secret? 

 

She shook her head sadly.

 

“P.S. I love you.”

 

“That means a lot,” she says.

 

We both look to my Jeep, and for a long, long, long time we hold each other until the vehicle’s inner light comes on and words scrawl across the windshield saying, “Don’t pass me by.”

 

I gulp, look to Terri and she says, “run for your life.”

 

In the end it all worked out and the things we said today, well it’s all too much. 

 

“Till there was you (Terri) I was in misery. In my life, I’m happy just to dance with you.”

 

Miraculously, the garage door opens and my Jeep auto starts and honks its horn. 

 

“Ain’t she sweet?” I think to myself.

 

“Keep your hands off my baby,” I whisper in Terri’s ear. “Ask me why and it’ll be a hard day’s night.”

 

See how music makes everything come together?