It was May of 2001 and four of us on a Friday evening were in a rented SUV headed into a desert valley where, after staying overnight as Bodet Cadets by a busy railroad, we would spend the following day farther up the line in one of the country's premier train watching destinations.

In our number was Conductor Bob. He's one of what can be called your classic citizens. He had been dumped from his job as freight representative when employer Southern Pacific Railroad was snapped up by the Union Pacific several years before: excellent work record but big companies are relentless to apply the benefits they swore they'd reap from fierce growth, like downsizing the work force and facilities.

Bob, a year or two older than I, went into the passenger side and was now quite the respected conductor. From his previous post, his knowledge of the contents of the freight cars and commerce of the railroads in general fit well with my own interest.

But at the moment I am entering the story Bob, not a person I knew like the others, introduced me to a major component of his personality that was hard to avoid in encounters over the years. He flat out didn't like what he saw of the music scene and just like the more egregious examples of the Spector wall of sound there wasn't much room to drop in something which made a difference. He just went on and on about the good years according to him, the "Kisses Sweeter Than . . " (he doesn't drink, so I'll leave out the vino) and "What Now My Love" era, in so many words and implications.

He took Eminem and various teen idols of that year to task. Hey, I was and am game, but again it was so difficult to tell him stories and concepts we'd picked up over our years of living and listening, why junk and the bare step up of pale imitation are often preferred to more solid, in many judgments of value, original and detailed work.

The other two fellows managed to work their way in with saying they did listen to things with their kids and, hey, some songs have a nice lilt. What would my contribution have been, not having been broken off by a dining stop?

Mainly, a younger, rebelling mind does not like to hear of certain critical examples being repeated with the optional jab in their direction: listen to Chet Atkins, listen to John Coltrane, any number of names. No, said young mind wants something less prominent, vivid, and at the end of the process something it feels it owns.

Thanks to on line video I ran across something from my past which had been but a rumor to me for a quarter of a century and I'll reflect on it in another post.