I was ten years old, happy as I'd ever been in my life, runnin' free in the Missouri woods when this tune came out in 1971.

Those days seem a million miles away now. Like someone else's life. Summers spent deep in the thick, green woods, shooting arrows at anything that moved, building tree houses and forts, pretending to be soldiers, or hunters, or Indians on the warpath. Anyone other than who we were. After the crud I'd been put through in England, Kansas City was paradise.

My friends, Mike Hinkley, Greg Rogers and I spent our winter days wondering at the magic of the ice storms that coated the trees, running in the deep snow, slipping and sliding on the frozen creek that ran behind our houses and sliding down the tall hill on our sleds. It's funny how, when prompted, the mind jumps to those warm, fond memories.

It was ages later, long after I'd memorized all the words, before I learned the sad inspiration for the song... That Mclean was singing about Buddy Holly, among other things. I still love it, and still sing it to myself at the top of my lungs when I hear it in the car. I'm instantly taken back to those good times. It's wild how music can do that to ya.