Ever get up and feel like your day already feels like a genre of music? Perhaps you have swing or a big band sound reverberating through your soul. Maybe disco is moving your hips, or soul is talking to your lips.
It’s a hard rock morning for me. My poor spouse’s right shoulder gave her sudden issues last night, a problem continuing today. I had a first impulse to say, “She did something to her shoulder,” but as you age, you realize that you often don’t do something to your body; genetics or a developing weakness or something just says, “Time to pull the cord,” and goes out.
That was gestating in my mind’s background noise as its forecourt punted reminders and prioritized errands and activities. Some actions were rejected as too late; they’d need to wait another day.
That provided a niche in the mindstream for Def Leppard to begin their hard-rock ballad, “Too Late for Love” (1983). 1983 was part of my Okinawa years. We arrived there in 1981 and stayed until the end of 1984. Two years were spent in the United States, and then it was off to Europe. We came back from there in 1991.
It was a good decade.