The word privacy remains in Webster's Dictionary. I looked it up. But when, I wonder, did we begin to forget its' meaning. To loose its' importance. One morning, Pandora - the station not the box - interrupted my morning ritual of listening to Cat Stevens' Morning Has Broken to inform me that I had listened to it seven-hundred and eighty-seven times and perhaps they could suggest something else I would like. Perhaps if I would like something else I would choose it. However, if Pandora needs to know, I will say.

​

I like Cat Stevens and the one in the same Yusuf. I like musical poets. Leonard Cohen, Jim Morrison, John Denver. When I was sixteen, I was convinced that if I moved to Colorado, John Denver would marry me. It took halfway into packing for my mother to convince me that I was not moving to Colorado and that most probably John Denver would not be marrying me. I also like Simon and Garfunkel. For the words and beause no two voices were ever more suited. And because at a concert in my youth I proved to myself that I could scale the wall of Giants Stadium rather than waiting in line to get out. 

​

I like Bob Dylan. I like what he has to say. I even kind of like his voice. It's an acquired taste, like cilantro. At first you're not sure it pleases you but the more you experience it the more you think, huh, pretty good. Opera is like that too. 

​

I like Tina Turner not only for her voice but for her style and coveted legs. I fell head-over-heals in admiration for her while one day listening to a certain pit bull interviewer - who shall remain nameless - on the veranda of her home in the south of France. Do you think you deserve this? Asked the pit bull. Without a beat Miss Turner replied, Honey, I deserve more. R.E.S.P.E.C.T. The pit bull also once asked Barbra Streisand why she spent so many years in therapy. I'm a slow learner. She said. Score: Women, two. Pit bull, zero.

​

Of course I like the Beatles. My favorite being George Harrison. The less obvious choice. But if you haven't heard his song or album All Things Must Pass I suggest you do. Particularly if you are of an age that does not know what an album is. An album is the art of storytelling. The vision of an artist. Not a sound-bite. Why do we choose to live in sound-bites when there is vision all around us? A young man in video recently said to me The average persons' attention span is three-seconds. The exact length of my replied sigh.

​

I was once fortunate to see Roger Waters. Front Row. Mesmerized by the quivering tendons of his forearm. Which I don't imagine the kid next to me filming Mr Waters with his iPhone will see. Fifty-feet from a Rock Star. Put. The. Phone. Down.  And I like Roy Orbison, Aerosmith, Kris Kristofferson, Ray Charles, James Taylor, Janis Joplin, Pinkus Zuckerman - because his strings speak - The Rolling Stones, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Andrea Bocelli, Elvis and his blue suede shoes.

​

But each morning, faithfully, upon rising I listen to Cat Stevens. Morning Has Broken. It is my morning prayer. It is private. I think that pretty much sums it up Pandora. The station not the box.