Performer: Robert Plant
Songwriters: Doug Boyle, Phil Johnstone, Robert Plant
Original Release: Now and Zen
Year: 1988
Definitive Version: None
After I accepted the gig in Flint at the end of 1989, I needed a place to live. I had almost no money and no furniture, so a furnished apartment would be ideal. I found one in Grand Blanc for $300 a month, and it ended up being where I would live the entire time I was at the Journal.
The two building complex used to be a motel many years ago—maybe even a resort—although I never did learn the history of the place. It was about a football field off the main street that ran through town, and at the time a bit out in the woods. I had a small front porch and a parking space in the driveway. There was a garage, which I was able to use for storage of a few things, but the parking spots were already taken. The key to my door was in fact a skeleton key. Shortly after I moved there, I decided to explore the woods in back, because it seemed there was a pond out back.
I was listening to Now and Zen a lot. In fact, I had bought it just before my departure, so I would have some new music to listen to while driving the U-Haul to and from Grand Blanc. (I moved all my stuff by myself this time, so the venture took an entire day.)
So I popped the tape into my Walkman and went exploring one cold, gray November evening before the sun set. I have a crystal clear vision of coming to the pond with this song on as the sunlight began to vanish. I stood there for a while, wondering what the heck I had gotten myself into now, before heading back home before the sunlight died completely—with two soakers through my boots for my efforts.
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