Handle

I was listening to the radio this morning and Bob Dylan's "Subterranean Homesick Blues" came on. It brought me right back to the summer of 1983 (no, it didn't bring me back to a summer in the '60s, because I wasn't even a twinkle in anybody's eye back then).

Like most summers, we were vacationing at my Grandparents' cabin. I use the term "vacationing" loosely, as the cabin was, uh, very "rustic". (And by "rustic", I mean it had an outhouse and no running water. We were roughing it fo' sho.)

For a treat, my Mom and my aunt would drive us into town for ice cream and my Mom would blast Bob Dylan's greatest hits on the tape player in the car. My brother and I thought this was the most horrible music possible and we covered our ears and screamed, "Turn it off!" during Bob's energetic harmonica solos. The only song we thought was mildy amusing was "Subterranean Homesick Blues". Why? Well, because since my grandparents' cabin had no running water, we actually had a green pump in the front yard that was used to hand pump water from the well for washing dishes or taking a bath. (Have I told this story before? I probably have. But to me, it never gets old.)

Here's a shot of my little brother pumping some water. (Aaron hooked up the scanner for me. Thanks, Aaron!)

So, the line, "the pump don't work because the vandals took the handle" always sent us into gales of laughter. We couldn't imagine why any vandal would want to steel the handle from our crappy pump or why some hippy from the 60s would sing about it. (I never knew the proper title of the song when I was young. We just called it "that song about the pump".)

Now I actually like Bob Dylan pretty well. His voice is kind of moany and the harmonica is kind of loud, but his music reminds me of my family and summer...and makes me really really glad that I have indoor plumbing.