My very best of friends had called me about the loss of a child after her sickness. I was writing a poem at the time of the phone call. All I did was change the name. Spooky but true.
I heard of the passing of my oldest brother, Frank, in Las Vegas, and the song wrote itself. The best of brothers you could have asked for, 18 months later my second oldest brother, Jerry, passed. The best brother you could ask for.
While napping one summer afternoon, a thunderstorm came up and one big-ass clap of thunder raddled my front door and I wrote the song in my head as I woke up.
You all have been in bathrooms with match-sets of pretty towels hanging , and were afraid to wipe your hands on them..Hence the song