Dusty Springfield, half-whispered “You’ve Got the Look Of Love” from the bat-winged, ’64 Chevy Biscayne’s dashboard speaker; after a day in the hayfields. If only she were whispering to me–or so, I thought at the time.
If only all girls were like California girls. Everyone in far-off places seemed to be better off, have more fun–the grass was always greener. Pity the fools, desperate for good news that never came.
Past lives left behind in rear-view mirrors; chrome chariots pointed, anywhere but here. “Here” transmogrified into a catch-all phrase–meaning whatever predicament one happened to be in at that given moment.
Anywhere but here, was the new mantra. How could everybody be somewhere else, when some, somebodies had to stay behind, to make-up for those that went somewhere else?
If there is a point to all this–it is to make the best of where you are; right now, at this moment. Because, take my word for it, the grass is not always greener.
For of those to whom much is given, much is required. JFK’s observation in 1961, taken from Luke 12:48 KJV.