My Soul-Mates are not inhibited, and they are willing to show the lady side of the lad. We all groove to Mario as he blares Tom Jones’ She’s A Lady over the Hi-Fi Stereo. As I watch my Readers Theater Troupe and my fight-dancers audition, I remember my own mediocrity with the trumpet and piano. So my Soul-Mate, my Lad of the House-Boat, my Supra-Heroic writer and fighter, consoles me by offering me his ARC: Admiration, respect, and consolation. He is too much to so many, and he is just enough for me.
Now Mario is blaring some Bill Withers scat over the stereo. Bill Withers’ spirit and music is always here. After listening to his philosophy, the only thing I want to know is, was working at IBM that bad?
After all, I worked at some prestigious corporations, too. PEZ. AT&T. American Airlines. Mario turns up the volume on the stereo:
Tell me Tony
Tell me Tony
Tell me why you wanna get high enough to die!. . .
Would ya put on da rock and pat ya foot,
And upon hearing this music, I see visions I can only add and never take away. I can either turn them on or turn them off.
On the fringes of the house-boat studio, I see performers rehearsing fight-dances. But I am not overlooking the magic among the ones in the middle of the floor, standing quietly, watching and listening while standing, as though they were standing on empty checkerboard squares. When I hear Bill Withers blaring through the speakers, I have to sit down or I fall down. Imagine how my parents felt when Still Bill blared through the hi-fi speakers on Christmas morning, nineteen-seventy-two!