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Every now and again, I turn on the oldies station and hear a song whose lyrics mystified me back in the day and it takes me back to a place in time.

This morning, that song was a tune that reached number 5 in 1974 on the Billboard Hot 100 list by a band called Redbone. If you can name another smash hit by them, I will retract calling them a One-Hit Wonder band.

Waiting. Waiting. I know what you’re thinking, I can’t even remember the one hit.

The name of the song is, “Come and Get Your Love.” This song starts with the mystical lyric, “Hey (hey) What’s the matter with your feel right?”

When I was in school, we all had to wait outside the cafeteria doors before lunch, then the doors opened, the hot dogs were smelling good and the speakers played this song loudly and the cooks all danced and sang:

“Come and get your lunch, Come and get your lunch. Come and get your lunch now.”

OK. I made that up, but so far, my “feel right” is doing OK, In case you forgot the one hit and wonder what is was, here it is:

Redbone was inducted into the Native American Music Association Hall of Fame in 2008.

Then, on the way home from work, I heard mystifying song number two which then inspired this week’s WedWand theme. People, play the radio in the car every now and then. Punch the buttons until you hit a song you recall. In this instant gratification world in which we live in, sometimes the surprise blast from the past is better than knowing what you will hear.

It’s so much more fun to live in the button pushing ball of confusion world of FM radio than programming your song of choice. Really, it is. OK, sometimes not, I agree. Then again, now I’m getting all confused.

Speaking of Ball Of Confusion, In 1970, The Temptations reached number 3 on the charts with the song, “Ball of Confusion.” Although the song was released 44 years ago many of the lyrics remain relevant even today:

Segregation, determination, demonstration,
Integration, aggravation,
Humiliation, obligation to our nation
Ball of Confusion

It also contains the outstanding lyric which may or may not be relevant at all:

“Great Googamooga Can’t you hear me talking to you?”

Now you might thing that Googamooga is a palindrome. It is not. Agoomagoog is not the very same as Googamooga.

Webster defines a palindrome as:

“A word, verse, or sentence (as “Able was I ere I saw Elba”) or a number (as 1881) that reads the same backward or forward.”

Wedwand defines a palindrome as a song named SOS by ABBA.

So, back to Googamooga, here is a vintage clip that is worth 2:13 of your time. Rap on brother. Rap on.

We are indeed living in a ten day run of Palindromic dates in this April, 2014. Today is 4 16 14. Yesterday was 4 15 14, tomorrow is 4 17 14. Happens every day until 4 19 14.

So, catch the symmetry ALL this week.

Wow. By for now.

FOOTNOTE: This week’s cover photo is snow on the lilies in April. Talk about a ball of confusion.



40 years ago on Tuesday April 8, 1974, Hank Aaron hit a home run, the 715th of his career. That blast broke the all time home run record previously held by baseball legend, Babe Ruth. That is a story in and of itself that requires a book, not a blog.

But, when I head this news on Tuesday, I reflected back and was amazed at the technological advancements over the past 40 years.

According to the Bible, Moses and the Israelites roamed the wilderness for 40 years and the only technological advancements in that time seem to be quail, water from a rock, and manna from heaven. We can still see modern evidence that remains today of those miracles, KFC, bottled water and baklava.

(Don’t believe me about the baklava? In Exodus 16:31, manna is described as, “white like coriander seed and tasted like wafers made with honey.”)

In the 40 years since Aaron and his historic dinger, the technological advances have been astounding. (Ironically, Aaron is the namesake of Moses brother and spokesman. It is one of the first documentations of an agent to represent someone. Baseball symmetry, catch it!)

Microwave ovens, electric cars, TV’s, digital cameras, cell phones, satellite and digital feeds are all relatively normal now, but were only a dream in 1974.

Social media and the whole internet thing, have developed and changed the way we communicate. We don’t even need to really talk to people anymore. Not sure if that is an “improvement” or not.

Many advancements that were once considered technological breakthroughs have even been rendered obsolete over the course of these same 40 years.

Music sources went from records to cassettes, to CD’s to videos to digital downloads. You can hear and see virtually any song you like with a touch of a button.

TV’s went from 19 inches to bulky big 32 inch big screens to light weight flat 50 inch screens that are broadcast in high definition. (I wonder if a Grateful Dead concert would be called high, high definition?)

TV sources went from antenna to cable to satellite to digital. You can watch anything you want anytime you want. You can even watch stuff on your cell phone or a tablet.

Hardly anybody sells film anymore as cameras have advanced from cameras with film to digital cameras to pictures you can take on your phone. Instead of waiting three days for your film to be developed to find out if you blinked, cameras these days have instant blink detection.

As Crash Davis said in the pitchers mound scene of the classic baseball movie, Bull Durham, “we’re dealing with a lot of shit.”

Speaking of dealing with a lot of shit, who knew what Hammering Hank was dealing with 40 years ago. It was more than the home run. Here’s a link to a book that I will admit I have not read, but the Amazon review is compelling enough to give a little insight to the trials and tribulations of the times even in 1974.

Here’s an excerpt from the review:

“Aaron’s magnificent feat provoked bigotry and shattered prejudice, inspired a generation, emboldened a flagging civil rights movement, and called forth the demons that haunted Aaron’s every step and turned what should have been a joyous pursuit into a hellish nightmare.”

So as we wander once again this Wednesday, Wedwand wonders if our progress in technology reflects progression in our perception of people.

Maybe yes. Maybe no. But we sure have cool phones now.


Once upon a time there was a time when Opening Day at Wrigley Field was special. For twenty years or so “the group” would assemble to attend.

The last World Series at Wrigley was in 1945 and suffice it to say, none of us had ever been to one but hoped we would one day see the Series on the North Side of Chicago.

Each year, we would gather together for the first home game of the year, quite assured that THIS would be the year. The Opener, when hope springs eternal and your team is still in the race.

Early on, when we were in our twenties, we sat in the Bleachers for this game. Right Field Bleacher. And we never chanted “Left Field Sucks” and we NEVER ever participated in “The Wave” and when somebody tried to start it, we squashed it.

We owned the Right Field Bleachers back in those days. There are stories too myriad to mention to confirm this assertion, so you will have to trust me.

After the playoffs of ’84, we moved the show to the Upper Deck Box Seats. Section 416.

But the Opening Day tradition remained the same. Anywhere from 6 to 16 of us attended. In the early days, to explain our absence from work, amazingly many of us had “caught the fever” and had to see Dr. Fields (Wrigley Fields) for a dose of medication. Cubs fever, catch it.

Most years the tradition was consistent. We would gather at my abode of the time to share fellowship, Howard Hash (a secret scrambled egg mixture recipe), and perhaps throw back a Blood Mary or three.

From there, we went to the game, cheered on the Cubs, had people adjacent to us rolling in the aisles with laughter, and maybe made a few friendly wagers during the course of the game. First hit, first run, attendance pools, those sorts of things.

After the game, we all bought hats and prided ourselves with our negotiating skills when we bought discounted bulk from the vendors for multiple hat purchases.

Donning our new head wear, we’d head to a local park somewhere and play a game of whiffle ball with unique rules that we called “Derby.” (That’s yet another story, but Derby has been played by us from coast to coast and even on someone’s Wedding Day.)

The tradition has been void for several years now.

Lives change, people change, people move. Some people pass on. I think our contingent of attendees now live in places like Georgia, Michigan, North Carolina, Wisconsin, Arizona and even Canada. A few remain in Chicagoland.

But I am certain, one thing remains constant.

When that opening pitch is thrown on Friday, wherever we all are, we will remember the fun, camaraderie and hope that we had on Opening Days gone by and wish just for a moment, that maybe THIS is the year.