Wild flowers and John Prine.
I was twenty something when I first heard a John Prine song. A summer day on the back of motorcycle. Backroads of Wayzata, Minnesota. A place where songs, if you really heard them, were written just for you. A part time model and handyman was driving the Indian motorcycle. (Maybe he too, was just hanging on.) He was every cool kid I never dated in high school. The sun was back-of-the-neck hot and the music that played in our helmets said, “I only wanna dance with you” … and I felt pretty. Not like in the magazines. Not photo shoot pretty – but wild flower. Side of the road, blowing in the breeze, captured in a passing glance from a...