“A little song on the breeze”
What a gentle little Zephyr
This evening will sigh
Under the pines in the little grove.
And the rest he’ll understand.”
Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
Act III Duetto: “Sull’aria…che Soave Zeffiretto”


Andy Dufresne: That’s the beauty of music. They can’t get that from you… Haven’t you ever felt that way about music?

Red: I played a mean harmonica as a younger man. Lost interest in it though. Didn’t make much sense in here.

Andy Dufresne: Here’s where it makes the most sense. You need it so you don’t forget.

Red: Forget?

Andy Dufresne: Forget that… there are places in this world that aren’t made out of stone. That there’s something inside… that they can’t get to, that they can’t touch. That’s yours.

Red: What’re you talking about?

Andy Dufresne: Hope. ~The Shawshank Redemption

The last eight years has been a strange recapitulation for me of my life. Some esoteric individuals call it a preparation for the “return of Saturn in my natal chart.” It is the time of turning 57 to 60. Yet I have experienced it, all the same, in the last eight years. A couple of years before 2010 is when it started; a need to look back at my youthful rebellion. Now the revival or nostalgia has reached a Peak of the Bell Curve. As a generation feeling, I was not the only one from my generation feeling the same pull. It is all in the song, one note to the next, and it took me back to a time when finding a 45 was not an easy proposition. Now it is too darn easy. Writing a book has lost its charm now because there are so many ‘telling a tale’ or ‘weaving a story ‘of those same rebellious times. For me it all comes down to the experience. Looking it square in the face and being happy. I am admiring old friends that still hang to the musical notes of rebellion , where some friends /comrades are as warm as the sun and others as cold as death. Yet it is a good journey still to hope for something new without memories.

Andy Dufresne: You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific? 

Red: No.

Andy Dufresne: They say it has no memory. That’s where I want to live the rest of my life. A warm place with no memory. ~The Shawshank Redemption


stephen king