During my childhood in Western New York, the time line of my life was mapped out by the change of seasons. Deep in my memory are angst-ridden winters, romantic summers, liberating springs, and suffocating autumns. Since my life in Florida, I no longer have a snowfall to chart the passage of time. Life’s one long peachy romantic-and-angst-ridden summer where the temperature drops sometimes.
And today it is winter in Florida again. The grass is as green as the sky is blue. As I play back the movies of my existence, it seems as if music marked the change of seasons as vividly as the reddening leaves did. When reviewing my own highs and lows, it seems that one band in particular represented my golden July and frosty January: Hole.
This article appears in Dec 15-21, 2011.
