how we got from Beethoven to Our Lady Peace in thirty minutes

Baby and I went downtown this morning for a young people's symphony and dramatic performance of Beethoven Lives Upstairs. When it was over, we wound our way a couple of blocks and across the green to the back lot where we had left the car.

Noting it was about top of the hour, I switched from the FM side of the dial to the AM news/talk station. The news was followed by a talk show, and I left the intro on to hear the day's topics.

The show's announcer was interested in discussing potential presidential candidates. Not so the first caller. He wanted to talk about Anna Nicole Smith. He was already full steam ahead into conspiracy theory waters, and damn the torpedoes, when I hit the FM button.

The hard-hitting rhythm of Eric Clapton's Cocaine filled the car.
"Do you think," Baby casually remarked, "that the song has anything to do with...?"
"Probably," I shot back.

At the end of the song, the DJ came on. Would he play another tune? Try to sell us something? No, he wanted to talk. It seems the song had reminded him of something. Guess what?

Baby was quicker on the draw this time. Mr. DJ wasn't able to get in a full sentence before she hit the pre-set for her favorite alternative rock station. The one with no DJ's.

I made no effort to stop her.