One time the music that you played whenever you would jive,
Was from a vinyl, big-holed record called a forty-five.
The record player had a post to keep them all in line,
And then the records would drop down and play one at a time.
Oh sure, we had our problems then, just like we do today,
And always we were striving, trying for a better way.

Oh, the simple life we lived still seems like so much fun,
How can you explain a game, just kick the can and run?
There was a time when just one glance was all that it would take,
And you would know the kind of car, the model and the make.
They didn't look like turtles trying to squeeze out every mile;
  
They were streamlined, white walls, fins, and really had some style.
And why would boys put baseball cards between bicycle spokes,
And for a nickel red machines had little bottled Cokes?
This life seemed so much easier and slower in some ways,
I love the new technology but I sure miss those days.

So time moves on and so do we, and nothing stays the same,
But I sure love to reminisce and walk down memory lane.

I remember them all and it was a great time to live and really enjoy life.
Poem: "Anonymous".
Rich loaned George his drums when we went into Recordings Unlimited that day, and
"Memories" was something Rich shared with us early 2007.

(Rich's wife, Barb, went to be with him Sept. 21, 2007. She will be missed dearly as well.)
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