Hello, Love

Welcome ,welcome, welcome my dear friends! It's been a while, and I do apologize for being away from you all so long; but, as you may remember, your old friend and humble servant Reverend Buddy is committed to posting in the Church of the High Beams space only when there is good news to be spread about like so much fertilizer in the garden; and friends, I believe we are approaching such a juncture.
I have been scuttling about this vast land, subsisting on the kindness of strangers, the patience of acquaintances, and the forgiveness of friends. Every day, my dear ones, I meet someone who inspires me, someone who reveals to me another fold in the beautiful mysterious fabric of our shared existence. I am almost overcome thinking about making love in the green grass behind the stadium with you my brown eyed girl.....
Sorry, friends, your humble homilist just experienced a senior moment of sorts there. I am often transported during my sojourns by the sound of music, and sometimes, my dears, it is so transporting that I lose my way for a moment...or longer. Several extended absences took place during the disco years, and again during some of the more intense seasons of punk and or speed metal. I once lost my way for about a month on a two lane between two Springfields, listening to the same Steppenwolf album over and over, I think it was For Ladies Only; a kindly ex-nun barmaid named Candy nudged me back on to the Interstate and back to my dear Flossirosa with the gentle exhortation,"Stay hard, stay hungry, stay alive if you can!" (Happy Birthday Bruce)
On that day, as I sped towards the dirty old NYC, the front seat sour with Marlboro stink and the green dashboard glow spread like a puddle under Hopper's deepest-amber streetlamp, the dial on the AM radio lit up, and the sounds of pop rock in the night bubbled out of the rumbling engine's hind quarters. I thought, that daft station's jingly call letter song says 'Home' to me. I was still a couple hundred miles out; but the signal was strong in the dark, and I was singing along with the Hues Corporation, BT Express, Hot Chocolate, the Archies, and the Three Degrees, on the way home. The radio, that warm sound in the black, was my sidekick as I thundered on through the night.
By the time I was ready to park my jalopy on the old streets downtown, the voice through the speakers was calling out, "hello, love." Ron Lundy was the guy's name, and he was the 10 to 2 DJ on ABC for about a hundred years, completely anonymous, and nearly a member of the family.
Now friends, I never met Mr. Ron Lundy, and I wouldn't recognize him unless he came right up in front of me and  said hello love, but his voice remains with me today. I can still hear it in my mind, like the songs of the aforementioned singing groups and thousands of others. We each of us hold deep within reservoirs of emotion and sensation, the depths of which are unknown to us. We are wondrous creatures, composed of so much more than flesh and blood. Our bodies and minds, yea our very spirits, thrum and strum and hum with high and low vibration, in frequencies nearly imperceptible yet incomprehensibly profound.
We are creatures of love, uncommon, unique love that is also universal, because it comes from the Universe, the Origin, the Creator, the Infinite. And that manifestation of infinite love, that force of light, shines without glare in the very center of our beings when we hear, feel, or make music.
Just as  an ancient one silenced by dementia can be awakened by an old familiar song, so too can our hearts be lifted if, when we hear the dopey old strains, we but open our ears and our hearts, open them to our brothers and sisters and our beautiful world, open our hearts and say,
Hello, love.
Peace my lovelies, till we meet again.
Surf Into the light,
Your Friend,
Reverend Buddy Lee