It was a crisp Spring day winding down as I drove to get my daughter Thryn at school. She usually takes the bus, way cooler than Dad picking her up, but this day she had to be somewhere else. I had parked and was wandering around the lot when she and her friends bubbled out in a small knotted mass of clumsily developing suave. Thryn ran over to excitedly ask some question about The Beatles, which album a song was on or some other small fact. I told her as her friends gathered around. One of them asked me another Beatles question and I dutifully replied. Then another came.
I saw in their faces a look of wonder as to how anyone could know all this as questions started boiling out of them. I was the sage, dispensing wisdom vital to the ages. And the horror rose from deep within me.
No, no, nonono, you can’t think your parents’ music is cool! You can’t think your parents are in anyway cool! This just isn’t right!
Barataria - The work of Erik Hare 