Ratatouille and So Long, Marianne

Hot summer early evening in NYC, but low humidity is a blessing. The windows are open; the fans are on; the AC is off, no threat to ConEd here. I am simmering my just-made-up version of ratatouille and, with the laptop in the kitchen playing WMP, up comes So Long, Marianne. And I thought, "how long has this song given me pleasure?" In how many places, starting with Berkeley, now in New York, Traiguen, Harare, San Salvador, and a whole bunch of others in between? I doubt that ever a week has gone by in my life without hearing it at least once, and all these years later I still fecklessly identify with "I used to think I was some kind of gypsy boy/Until I let you take me home..." and I still can't keep all the verses straight. But each time I get to hear it, it is a small, welcome gift. Thanks, Leonard -- for this one and so many others.