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Judy Davis's avatar

Dear Mr. K, now that I've finished my spit take and cleaned my coffee off the iMac monitor, Peter M's comment re: the limericks found in Oh What A Beautiful Morning has now (in a good way, really) ruined the song for me. Much as a random comment I read years ago that most Emily Dickinson poems can be sung to the tune of The Yellow Rose Of Texas. Is nothing sacred any more?

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WanderingSioux's avatar

Your comment about your lack of sentimentality about your "stuff" probably accurately reflects your personal position. However, on the other side of the (radio) fence, there are millions of us, your faithful listeners, who have collected memories on our neurons, memories that are more indelible than those on paper! Was it Carl Krebsbach, for example, who drove off from a gas station without checking to see whether his wife was in the car or not? Priceless! And how about the time a tow truck with a car that had been used as a cistern got mixed in with the town parade? Or what's the name of that girl who played basketball, came onto the court and shot hoops like a pro? There must be a thousand times, at the very least, when I've seen something in everyday life, and heard a segment of APHC in my mind! The small town images that burst out of your fruitful mind are indelible - and they'll probably exist as long as we, your audience live on! Perhaps there's not an active "Paper Trail", but the Neuronal Trail is alive, well, and, well, at least somewhat intact! Viva APHC!

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