It's almost summer. It's warm out - even hot some days. But the calendar says summer starts on the solstice. Two days from now.
But, like I said, it's raining. And it's hot out. And it's summer enough for me. I've always liked summer rain. I remember sitting on my front porch the night before my first band was going to the studio for the very first time. I had a crappy acoustic guitar and that night was simply magical. I still remember the first song I wrote on that crappy guitar, a year or more earlier on a similar rainy summer night. Only that time I was inside with the window open and the lights off. I remember dragging my wife up to stand on the little porch of the first place we shared. We barely knew each other then, but I still had to show her what it was like to just stand and absorb the serenity of a good summer rain.
If you don't have a copy, go cruise by YouTube and find the fan-made video for Summer's Rain by Savatage. I don't care if you don't like the pixel-heavy graphics, just listen to the song.
Take a minute to listen to the man you hear pouring his heart and soul into that guitar solo. His name is Criss Oliva.
When I was younger, I could never put a face on it -- could never imagine what it would be like to be thirty years old. This year, on the solstice, I'll be 33. That's three years older than Criss Oliva was when he was killed by a fucking drunk asshole.