I'm not sure I have many that I would care to divulge.

We chose the jazz standard Time After Time by Sammy Cahn and Jule Styne to be sung at our wedding by Julie's roommate, who was in the Choir of the West. It was a lovely moment, and I treasure that memory.

I spent a lot of time listening to Led Zeppelin III when I was a freshman in college. My (still close) friends across the hall had speakers that were hopelessly too big for a dorm room. It rains a lot in Washington, and we would sit in the grey afternoon light, smelling the leaves and the rain from outside, and revel in the sounds of Jimmy's fingers on the strings. The music wasn't new, but a deepened exploration of it was new and revelatory to us. Regrettably, I have fewer moments of discovery, now.

20-some years ago, a dear friend (my kids' "Uncle Kevin" despite no blood connection) was in a sometimes-working rock band. In this iteration, he sang and played sax, with some other very talented musician/friends. They reinterpreted and rearranged many songs to suit their style, some of which I quite preferred over the originals. I cannot hear Fool for Your Stockings without thinking that it needs a sax solo. And one more guitar solo.

Anything from the first two Tragically Hip albums takes me back to a bouncy, sweating, frantic show at Seattle's tiny Offramp Cafe. It may be my favorite rock and roll memory.

Frick, I'm old. I mean, not like Jack or anything, but still. Thanks a lot, Peter. You'll pay for this.
bibere usque ad hilaritatem