Yesterday, Sophia and I mixed things up a bit. Instead of meeting at our coffee shop, we met in Brooklyn at a Five Guys. I wanted to be closer to home when we finished our pair session, and both of us live in Brooklyn, so it made sense. I chose a Five Guys because I wanted fries and Barq’s. And Sophia came with her friend Analise. I’ve met Analise a bunch of times, so it wasn’t weird to have her there, but she doesn’t usually join us. When she comes to the coffee shop, she sits at another table, hanging out on her phone while Sophia and I hang out and write.
The Five Guys had an interesting soundtrack. The hodgepodge included Boston, Little River Band, John Cougar Mellencamp, James Taylor, Queen, the Back Street Boys. With nearly every song, I would pause and look at the speaker above us, surprised by whatever was playing. At one point, I started laughing and commented that we’d heard so many different things that didn’t seem to go together. Sophia wondered if we’d heard every possible genre of music. This should have given me a clue that I was about to have a wonderful Sophia moment — nothing as dramatic as the wooly mammoth moment, but something.
I said we still hadn’t heard any country. Analise shuddered, clearly appalled at the thought of country music. Sophia pointed up at the speaker. “What about this?”
Yes, what about that. Country, my darling mentee? Country? I think not. I pointed at the speaker and said, in sync with Mick’s singing: “It’s only rock and roll, but I like it.”
Analise and Sophia fell out laughing. “Hey,” Sophia said, “If I hear a guitar, to me that’s country.”
Um … what? Oh, my sweet Trini girl. No. No. And many more times no. I know it’s not the music she grew up with, but … country?
If I could win ya, if I could sing ya
A love song so divine
Would it be enough for your cheating heart
If I broke down and cried?
If I cried?
I said I know it’s only rock ‘n’ roll but I like it
I know it’s only rock ‘n’ roll but I like it, like it, yes, I do
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