Elton John Lives

We were mixing whites and yolks for a mid-afternoon batch of scrambled eggs today, Sid and I, when he confided in me his latest musical leanings.

Sid: I have a new favorite decade of music.

Me: Oh yeah? Which?

Sid: The 70s.

Me: That’s a good one. Who are some of your favorite artists so far?

Sid: Umm, Fleet Macwood, Van Morris, Elton John.

Me: You know he’s playing the Chase Center in September.

Sid: Really? I figured he was dead.

Hold Me Closer, Tony Danza

At the end of a side street near my dad's condo there's a trail that rises into the woods in such a way that the moss-covered roof of the very last house on the block is clearly visible from just a few yards beyond the trailhead. As Bryan, my dad, Pongo and I were crossing the threshold of that trailhead during a walk this morning my dad said out of the blue and to nobody in particular "We really need Elton John around here." Several seconds went by before I realized that no other words were coming and so I asked, "And why's that, dad?"

"Because he sat on the roof and kicked off the moss," was his stone-faced reply.

It took me a moment to figure out where I'd heard those words before and when I finally connected the dots I said, "I always thought it was 'I sat on the roof and kicked at the moths.'" My dad just smiled and shook his head. Hoping for some brotherly backup I glanced at Bryan who shrugged his shoulders and said, "I mumble when I get to that part."

I googled the lyrics to Elton John's "Your Song" when I got home this afternoon and was shocked to discover that not only was my dad correct about the moss part but also that he appears to be in possession of a far more potent strain of Bad Dad Humor than I ever could have imagined.