i was probably twelve years old the night i answered the front door to find a woman standing there with a marimba.
"i heard this is where the party is", she said.
so i let her in.
you know, because it was in fact where the party was. i do not know what kind of parties YOUR parents were throwing in the seventies, but MY parents were throwing the kind of party where a couple dozen strangers might show up with guitars and banjos and there'd be hours of singing.
do i need to tell you how fantastic this is for a kid? grownups are amazing exotic creatures and a group of grownups standing around drinking cocktails might shoo a kid away so they can talk about complicated grownup things but a group of grownups packed as tight as they will fit with guitars and banjos is essentially helpless. they need somebody small and flexible to squeeze in and out with snacks and beverages.
and a kid can sing, too, so a kid can be a full participant in a grownup party. it's kind of a sweet gig.
i am telling you this because i know you woke up today thinking that you would really like a story about my childhood.
and also it kind of explains a lot about me.