No. 640 – Frozen Love

Performer: Buckingham Nicks

Songwriters: Stevie Nicks, Lindsey Buckingham

Original Release: Buckingham Nicks

Year: 1973

Definitive Version: None

The summer started when Laura left with Maile, the family dog, for Torch Lake at Memorial Day. Casey went up as soon as school was out in June. Because Dad was drawing closer to retirement age, he worked his schedule in a way that allowed him to take almost as much free time as he wanted—a benefit as a sole practitioner to be sure.

I had two primary responsibilities at home during this time. The first was to take care of the yard—cutting, trimming, edging, etc. I was fine with this, because I did want to at least try to earn my keep instead of being a complete freeloader, but it also gave me a chance to reuse my lawn-care skills. When I’d get out in the yard, I realized that yardwork was something I missed since leaving my house.

My second responsibility was to take care of Dad when he was home. I mean, it’s not as though he were sick or anything, but he was glad to have the company. And I know he was glad—as was Laura—to have someone cook a homemade meal for him once in a while. If left to his own devices, the pizza boxes and McDonald’s bags would be stacked to the ceiling.

The amount of time we spent together depended on the Clippers’ schedule. If the team were home, I worked the games, so Dad and I would see each other only a bit—in the evening as we passed each other on the way home/out and before he went to bed. If the Clippers were on the road, I’d be home and able to make dinner. Dad liked to have grilled salmon or steaks, so I’d prepare the sides those nights.

When I renewed my coverage of area takeout establishments for The Dispatch (story to come) that summer, I usually used Mom as my takeout-review partner, because I knew it would give her a chance to have a decent meal, and it was a ready-made reason to visit.

But when my target one time was a take-and-bake pizza place, Dad seemed to be the perfect partner there. I ordered a couple of pies with different ingredients and brought them home for Dad and I to sample one night. He was a big fan of my reviews in the paper, and he loved participating and getting a mention.

But for most of the baseball season in 2004 (and in 2005), I had the house to myself. Consequently, I made the dining room my primary workspace.

This afforded me several advantages. I could spread my books and files over the length of the huge dining-room table—something I couldn’t do in the office. I also was close enough to the stereo that I could plug my computer into the aux jack and play music over the speakers in the living room and kitchen, which, obviously, made for better sound.

Also, I was able to use the family Mac, which was hooked up to the cable modem, for faster online research. Dad let me use his account, and when I saw he had a couple of interesting songs in his iTunes library, I quickly made copies for … umm … backup purposes, of course.

Green Grass and High Tides and this song were among the songs, and both became major parts of the Will Soundtrack, during a 12-month period that still remains (foreshadowing) the best “year” of my life.