So the Wife stayed in New York when I came back to California. And what does my dream life kick up as a tender remembrance of my dear one? Some Depression-Era crooner noodling over this bit of nonsense:

Once, without a care, my love
‘Ere the world was made
Still I found you there, my love
Drinking lemonade

Thanks a lot, psyche. Now I feel lonesome AND silly.


  1. Of course you’d need to have that crooner cigarette hang. You know, where the cig just hangs from the bottom lip, like gravity can’t touch it, and Lonely Eyes doesn’t seem to be affected by the carbone monoxide wafting into his nasal sinuses. And just when the ash looks like it’s going to fall on the lapel, the bridge comes along, and the crooner takes a drag and fixes his hair.

    I don’t know how they did that, but they did it.

  2. Matthew Lickona says

    But that’s just it – it was a dream. I had no control – over the cigarette ash or anything else. But still – point taken. It’s a lost art.

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