When I was five years old, I stepped barefoot on a water glass lying on the floor of my Grandparent's bathroom and put a deep, three inch slice in the side of my foot. As I laid on the living room sofa, all the adults talked at once about taking me to the hospital for stitches. I wanted no part of stitches, whatever those were. Amidst the chatter, I looked at my Grandpa and he looked at me. He stepped forward and said, "Chris decides." All the adults stopped talking and turned to me. To this day, I revere the scar.
'O, Laredo, town in my dream
Long desert valley, deep Rio seam.
Here, the only light is fluorescent.
There, I know I'll learn to belong.
For though, I'm poor in this city,
Laredo waits for me.'
Read an interview with Bob Dylan where he tells of recently visiting John Lennon's boyhood home in England. He was standing in front of the home when an old neighbor woman approached him. She told him she was a neighbor while Lennon was growing up with his Aunt Mimi, his guardian. The old woman took Dylan around to the back of the house and pointed to a large field. She told him it was Strawberry Field. She said every so often Aunt Mimi would call out to check on John's whereabouts. She'd call out, Johnny, what are you doing? He'd always answer the same: "Nothing to get hung about."