When mom was banging out Name Dropper and a heap of others tunes on her piano, I was probably around 10-12 years old. I was no doubt oblivious to the utter joy that it brought her. It's only now that I fully understand how essential her playing and writing were to her mental health. Being stuck in the suburbs, with two kids (after living a pretty exciting life in the Army, at the Pentagon, and and in personnel for the CIA), these brief respites at the piano, away from household drudgery and child rearing, are what kept her so spunky and spirited until the end. The ever-present Pabst Blue Ribbon and Winston cigarettes only heightened her creative process.

And a hearty THANK YOU to our ever generous and kind overlord, DAN, for posting the tune!

One day I shall get around to listening to all of the dusty old tapes that I inherited and will hopefully assemble a greatest non-hits package.

Peter T.

And school will be out in a month, Kathryn, so expect a long call!