It happened at HemisFair.
Paul Simon was a major contributor to the soundtrack of my life.
For my money,
he was the best songwriter of his era. He captured perfectly the angst and
disillusionment of the times, and his lyrics are sheer poetry.
“Sounds of
Silence” is an anthem of the Sixties, and “The Boxer” is a transcendent
testament to the strength of the human spirit and the importance of perseverance
in the face of diversity and criticism. “Bridge Over Troubled Water” is a
soaring hymn of our need to care for each other in times of trouble and
travail.
But it is his
love songs that I treasure most. And of them, “Kathy’s Song” is my favorite.
It’s often overlooked, and that’s a damned shame because it is – simply
perfect.
It reminds me
of a Kathy I knew back in those long-lost days. We met in San Antonio during
the seven-month run of HemisFair ’68, a world exposition that celebrated the
cultures of the Americas. Its fairgrounds still exist.
I fell hard for
Kathy, as only a 17-year-old can. And it says more about me than her that she
remained blissfully unaware. Years later, when I told her of my infatuation –
at a celebration of her engagement, no less – Kathy greeted the news with a
tender look. “I never knew,” she said.
It’s the best
love song ever written. Find a better one – I dare you.
So you see, I
have come to doubt
All that I once
held as true.
I stand alone
without beliefs.
The only truth
I know is you.
And as I watch
the drops of rain
Weave their
weary paths and die,
I know that I
am like the rain.
There but for the grace of you, go I.
Simon & Garfunkel - Kathy's Song - YouTube
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