I heard a song years ago by Dottie Rambo titled Sunday is Father's Day. She both wrote it and sang it with her family of singers. Since then I've had the words to that song embedded into my brain. I used to drive to Willo Hill Baptist Church in Willoughby, Ohio in an old Corvair, (R bought it for $50 from a neighbor and bought $1000 worth of tools to work on it- it's a man thing) that smoked like a double chimney, with the kids in the backseat fighting, and I'd sing that song to the top of my lungs - sure that if the Lord came that minute I'd be taken up in the clouds with him. I'm sure I told the kids if they didn't stop hitting each other they would not be going with me. I am a singing fool and can't carry a tune. I keep music going all day long, from soft piano cds, to the sound of the ocean lapping the shore, to Indian flutes, and Alan Jackson singing Precious Memories. Oh, and Kenny G. I love him too. And Aaron Neville. AND my ROD STEWART singing DO...
"All the characters who have housed my stories now have permanent apartments in my head - I still have tea with them." bw