Sounds like a new funky album.
Or a funky band.
But it’s actually a song I would like to publicly dedicate to the newest member of my body – my chemo port. It’s shaped like a heart – at least if the picture on the chemo port packet is accurate. I have a plastic card to put into my wallet, granting official notice of our budding relationship. Also a grey rubber wristband that I will proudly sport for my port.
And so here’s the song. It’s Frank. Mom listened to Frank nightly on her Hi-Fi, long playing albums. I memorized them all. This is the exact version of the song I remember. She worked for a while at a studio in Hollywood, loved to tell the story of walking down a hall past Frank back in the sixties, and he winked at her (bet he did that for all the girls). But her eyes lit up whenever she told the story…just like my eyes are lighting up now when I think of my port…