I'm sure I've given James Bell some awful birthday presents over the years.
There was one time, though.... in my early teens.... that I know I hit it out of the park.
A late-night infomercial for a six or seven cassette collection of ultra-prolific swamp rockers Creedence Clearwater Revival aired one Sunday morning after the closing credits of Saturday Night Live. I called the order in that night, because "operators were standing by."
For years after I presented him with these tapes, they were the only thing that he listened to.
On long road trips, we'd pop the first installment into the tape deck of his Econoline (at least I think it was an Econoline. It was a van. With a tape deck.) and listen reel to reel before repeating the process with tape two. And three. And four.
I thought it would be fitting to select a CCR song for his birthday. And what better one than "Fortunate Son?" Because, if you don't listen to the lyrics, the title sounds like a guy who had a pretty great Dad. Like me.
I'm pretty sure he'll dislike the Celt-punk execution by Quincy, Massachusetts band Dropkick Murphys. But, eh. Consider it another crappy birthday present.
Happy Birthday, Old Man!
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