Ode to Billy Joel

As Woody Guthrie once spoke for a generation (or a nation, take your pick), an unlikely fellow spoke to us early Gen-Xers when we were growing up. Yes, I'm talking about the Piano Man. Although there are few that would readily admit it, but we didn't have Glass Houses in our record collections because our distaste for modern architecture was aligned with the leather clad man about to hurl a rock through the windows of a bland weekend chalet.

No, we loved Billy Joel because he provided a soundtrack for our school gymnasium dances, girls synchronized swimming routines, and basement party sing-a-longs. I didn't realize this until I looked at the track listing for one of his greatest hits packages that Mrs. B owned. I was amazed. He did so much for me, yet I left him by the side of the road while I trudged along to loftier listening ambitions. Go ahead with your own life, leave me alone, I said.

Despite my negligence, Billy J is undeterred. He's still relevant and hasn't been in the news for a messy divorce or traffic accident for years. I don't need to worry for him, 'cause he's all right.