I was born in 1955. My 1940s cloud of consciousness threads through memories of hearing Big Band on the drive-in movie speaker and rifling through my Dad's trunk with his war and sports memorabilia. The 78 rpm records my parents gave me bonded me with Jimmy Durante, Ted Lewis, Bing Crosby and Spike Jones. Old pulp and comic books were plentiful at flea markets and opened more channels into a treasured vault of buried popular culture. Now old movies and music on cable and the net keep me riveted to a euphoric room of my consciousness that leads to a mostly enchanted glimpse of the simple and the right.