When Cody was 4 years old, he wrote me a note for Mother’s Day that read, “You are bunny candy to me.” Easter that year had clearly made an impact.

The phrase entered the B-K family lexicon, of course, so today was Bunny Candy Day. We are not churchgoing folk (I’m much more likely to make the rest of the family observe the Vernal Equinox than anything else this time of year), but we dutifully do the Bunny Candy thing.

I’m curious - what are some great utterances by the children in yr life that have stuck around over time, becoming part of the house vernacular?

Still unable to shake off the last 8 years, I occasionally feel as though I’m living in an alternate reality:

[Sorry about the largeness of the photo. It’s from Reuters and I couldn’t figure out how to reduce it. Anyway.]

From the Telegraph in the UK:

Some of the food grown in the garden will be served to the Obamas and to White House staff and guests. Some will be donated to a local soup kitchen.

I’m surprisingly emo about this.

I came home from CHGO a couple of weeks ago absolutely craving Crosby, Stills, Nash, & Young.

This was due, completely, to two separate occurrences happening within half an hour of each other while we were hanging out on North Avenue. The first was walking past a bar whose doors and windows were wide open, “Long Time Gone” barreling from the speakers. I couldn’t believe how good it sounded, how everything was appropriate for the sound - the weather, the people we were with, everything fit. The second was the arrival of a friend, not fifteen minutes later, at the Double Door with a Reckless Records bag enveloping what at first seemed disappointing (one measly record for the record collector?), but, ah! The record inside was a copy of the Crosby & Nash record from 1973 - the one with “Immigration Man”, possibly my favorite song from when I was about 5 years old.

I came home from the city the following day, needing, absolutely, to hear all of it. If you live where I live, and you need to hear something that you don’t own, and you’re me, you call Stelt. STAT.

Everyone I knew back when we lived and worked in Chicago (except for Jim, who had lived in Champaign previously and had known him for years already) was respectfully terrified of Stelt. He was the buyer at the best record store in downstate Illinois, a 6′6″ pro-wrestlery-looking guy, older than us, TOTALLY INCAPABLE of suffering fools gladly. The first time we met was in the record store on the U of I campus in Champaign in 1995, when Jim took me “record shopping”. I feigned indifference as I shopped the racks. CDs. Lots of vinyl. As far as anyone knew in town, Jim was still with his ex-girlfriend, so I was under a bit of extra scrutiny. Who is THAT? He seemed unimpressed, as was his way. I was relieved to emerge into the bright sun into the anonymity of summertime campus.

In April 1996, I found myself at one of Townes Van Zandt’s final shows with… Stelt. He had asked who was up for it and I rose to the challenge, so I met him at the Old Town School of Folk Music, where we witnessed the obvious end of Townes’ career that night. We totally bonded over it. Friends forever!

Jim & Cody & I moved to Urbana a few months later. Stelt helped us move into our apartment (he lived around the corner) and eventually, Stelt and I had a radio show on WEFT for several years called Out of Our Heads (I came in after his original co-host, Barry, left to teach at FSU). Before there was podcasting, Stelt and I sat in his living room, smoking and listening to records, and wished we could broadcast the listening sessions we were having right from the living room rather than haul ourselves to the station. He remains my go-to guy for music. He’d be yours, too - he has the most WICKED record collection in probably the entire midwest. And even though we moved, he moved too, and he’s still around the corner.

When I went by Stelt’s to tell him of my CSN&Y dilemma, he stopped preparing his dinner and rummaged around in one of his rooms, waving the CSN&Y CD box set issued by Atlantic in the early 1990s when he came out. “This isn’t everything,” he said, “but it’s probably everything you need right now.”

He was SO RIGHT. The box is a Greatest Hits-ish situation, BUT!! also appeals to the collector, the nerd, and the girl who grew up with parents who listened to a lot of CSN&Y by way of live stuff and outtakes for some of the better-known songs (”Suite: Judy Blue Eyes”, which I am listening to right now, OH YES), plus plenty of solo or offshoot projects and covers. I kept it for two weeks before popping over to his house to give it back and ask him to give me something else to listen to, because I knew he would.

He did, of course - he gave me several CDs to listen to. Rodriguez (completely insane, it’s so good). Lovetones. The new Tindersticks (which is colossally great). The Tallest Man on Earth (Swedish and in CHGO tomorrow night, I believe) He always does that, because he’s Stelt and he’s awesome and he wants you to go ahead, take all day if you have to, but listen to this and explain it to me. He’s an excellent friend, fun to hang out with, has the best taste in TV in addition to music, and is a B-K family treasure. And now, thank GOD, he writes about music every so often here.

Happy birthday, Uncle Stelty.