This Yellow Taxi Cab In Which I Ride

I can't even begin to tell you how happy I am that I sold my house almost a year ago. Home ownership just wasn't for me. I wrote a song about it. It's called One and Only Home . Shortly after moving into my apartment and sitting down with lawyers and the buyer, I started writing about what was going through my mind as it pertained to moving out of the home that I had lived in for most of my life. There were a lot of thoughts and feelings and it didn't come to a cohesive conclusion and, thus, wasn't a song. One idea that I had jotted down stuck with me. It was that of a gingerbread house that didn't taste good. I had written about trying to build a gingerbread house with ingredients that made me sick, which was a great metaphor for my experience owning a home. This became the first verse. The second verse is an inside joke in a way. You see, I had married a former pageant girl who was very concerned with how the home looked. Everything had to be perfect

It was the summer of 1997. I was driving an ’85 Camaro that was just as much bondo as it was Camaro parts. Much of the summer was spent in that car with my brother and my cousins, driving to Lake George for mini-golf and to the mall for Laser Tag and the movies. The gas gauge didn't work and we had to guess at when it was getting close to empty. We never did run out of gas. I had two cassettes that we used to play most of the time: Summertime by Will Smith and Whoop! There it is. The four of us knew all the words by heart and when we would walk the streets of Lake George, we would sing acappella, badly. The adventures of that summer culminated in August. My cousins had to go home to New Jersey, college started for me, and high school continued for my brother. The last hurrah, if you will, was a concert at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center (SPAC). I was always a loner. I didn’t have a whole lot of friends in school and was incredibly awkward around my peers. However, when I wa