Since the announcement of Scott Weiland’s death, I have been listening non-stop to Stone Temple Pilots, and loud. So that means, if I’m listening, my little constant companion is listening as well. Most of the time I have been listening in the car because that is where my CD player is located. Yup, I said CD player. While caught up in the nostalgia of Crackerman and reminiscing of a time when I was younger, thinner and consistently under the influence (a.k.a. much cooler than I am now), I was reminded of the time I saw STP in concert. It was one of the best shows I have ever seen and that memory drowned me in a wave of intoxication.
Suddenly I looked up at my mini rearview mirror (you know the supplemental ones parents place on the inside of the windshield of the car in order to watch their children’s every move), and noticed my son with a sober expression on his face and his little fingers in his tiny seven year-old ears.
“Oh, I’m sorry my love.” I said while turning the music down, “Is it too loud?”
Now that we could hear each other again, our conversation got its second wind. I’m not sure what I was expecting as an answer, but obviously Azul was not in the same place I was.
Looking back at me in the pint-sized mirror with a crinkled nose, he said, “I’m just not really into Country music.”