When my brother Don was about 16, he ought an old Hudson for $50. Daddy gave him "driving lessons," which amounted to Daddy driving the Hudson out to Newman with us two boys in tow, hoisting a few beers at either the Last Roundup or Club 54, and Don driving us back home. Daddy would always give me money for the jukebox, and I always selected "Tennessee Waltz" by Patti Page. I would tell you today that I liked the chords and the duet harmony (which she also sang). But as a child of 8, I only knew it was real pretty.

Patti Page died yesterday at the age of 85. The evening news played a few measures of that old record as part of the story, and I thought of my brother, and my father, and the Hudson, and Newman, and the vast expanse of desert that existed between the city limits and the state line a half-century ago. All of it is gone now, except for that song -- and my memories.