I hesitate to share this flash, as the Good Reverend will likely pop up with a correction that throws me into doubt. (Forces of Evil: no, not you guys. Don't you have legal papers to file? If you're looking for something to do, maybe you can help Uriel with her campaign against dermatologists.)
My dad was the lead guitarist in a cover band when I was much, much younger, and they played this song. They used to practise at the back of the drummer's store ("Jim-Bob's Flooring"), and I liked to go to their rehearsals. I'd sit on big rolls of carpet and listen to them play country-rock music or the songs my dad wrote.
My godfather sang lead, and my dad's best friend Steve played bass. I have a memory flash of Steve with a Band-Aid on his ear (goodness only knows why) goofing around and singing this as "Summer of '89", and I distinctly remember thinking that it was 1986 at the time. I was sitting near the bathroom, which I had a mortal fear of because the fellow who occasionally played keyboards told me there was a mouse in the toilet. I'm sure this was very funny to a guy without kids.
I have a few other related flashes of memory, but can't remember what happened before or after. I remember pinching my hand in a microphone stand by messing around with the little twisty thing that lengthened it -- I loosened it and the top part slipped down and pinched my hand. I also remember tightening the strings on my dad's guitar when he wasn't looking. Naturally, I was caught in the act (I never got away with anything, no matter how small) and the drummer chastised me: "Uh uh uh, you're not supposed to turn those, Megan!"
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