Listenin’ to the 70’s, and livin’ there, too

Everywhere I go today, the 70’s rock world seems irrepressibly alive: Neil Young‘s Harvest album, I Shot the Sheriff, Maria Muldaur’s Midnight on the Oasis….

At the risk of sounding like an old fogey, them were simpler times (not so much, really).

But one way in which they were was that red tape hadn’t spiralled completely and entirely out of control stateside. Close. But not a candle to today.

Poor Bob does yeoman’s duty at the PO, where the staff never acknowledges that he is a person who has heard all the questions and rules they must assert before he mails each package. He shows up with a stack of books for the SLJ column, at the North Berkeley Branch, and, for each one, must testify that it contains “no hazardous materials or liquids.”

I, on the other hand, am living in the ’70’s–but more like the 1870’s….Tonight I went to my PO to collect the daily mail and, while I was bent over my nearly floor-height post box, the clerk appeared over my shoulder, extending a package that had “just arrived for you so I haven’t written up the notice yet.” And, indeed, the package is for me. I am a person with a face here, while he seems to be an obstruction there.

So, trying to find the right song to end the day, one that seems to have more misunderstood lyrics seems just right…..

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