My wife welcomed me home recently. I didn’t know what the hell she was talking about, but she was quick to explain that I had emerged out the other end of my Sgt. Pepper phase.
She was right. I did go kind of sideways when I started down the Cannabis Trail. Everything was wonderfully far-out, and I did indulge my passions with a velvety languid affection.
It was a kind of last bit of unfinished business before embarking on these, my post-autumn years. I deserved a Sgt. Pepper phase. I’ve been living in the 1960s since there were 1960s, and Sgt. Pepper has always had the feel of a pinnacle.
I think I’ll start telling folks I went to Woodstock.