Library Rock's Backpages

Rocking Chair

Michael Lydon, Fusion, September 1972

JUNE TODAY, not busting out in Boston where the sky is as grey as the pigeons, but here. My trip has continued from Bloomington across Ohio and corners of West Virginia and Pennsylvania, through rolling Maryland, and into wet, green Washington where a hitchhiking rock club waitress told me George Wallace had been shot hours before. School kids were trouping through the Smithsonian's hall, and with them I stared at the charred shields of spacecraft and the Spirit of St. Louis. Federal grandeur is hard on the dogs. "We've still got a twenty-minute walk to the car," said a mother to an exhausted four-year-old.

Total word count of piece: 1110

Subscribe

Becoming a member is easy. Membership gives you access to all the thousands of articles in the library.

Click here to go to Subscribe page.

Click here for academic and other group subscriptions.