They’re playing Bonnie Raitt, not Iron and Wine. The guy at the next table is reading the Bible, not the alt-weekly. But they’ve got soy lattes and free wifi, so here I am. On the way to the coffeehouse, I heard “Blitzkreig Bop” on the radio, repurposed as an Ohio State fight song. O! H! I, O!
It’s my first trip back to Ohio since my father died in February. It is exactly as hard as I thought it would be. Yesterday Mom and I went to the cemetery, and I found myself wishing I could bring tomatoes, peppers, radishes — things he used to grow. Mom pointed out landmarks en route to Dad’s grave. Once there, we watered, in hopes that the grass seed scattered on top of the dirt will soon germinate.
Now they’re playing “Cherish,” and I can’t write about Dad with Kool and the Gang in the background — the juxtaposition of grief and overplayed, overwrought R&B reawakens my sense of humor. The world so rarely provides a really appropriate soundtrack.