It's been almost a year since I got the phone call. Ironically, I had just come from a funeral.

"Terri? I have some news for you. Dana died."  The voice was delivering the news via my answering machine.

I quickly picked up the phone. It was one of my good friends from my teenage years. Anne and I talked for about a half hour. Reminiscing. A flood of memories.

Why?

 Dana was my first boyfriend.

We were both fifteen.  Dana gave me my first grown-up kiss. I broke up with  him to date his friend (known as That Bastard) and when he dumped me, Dana and I were back together. Only we were older this time.  We were seventeen.

We dated off and on for five years. The last I saw him I had been out and stopped at the Big Boy drive-in that we all went to. It was a true American Graffiti youth. Cars. Burgers. Romance. And more cars. I seem to remember I had been drinking sloe gin and 7-up.  My car door opened and Dana slid into the passenger seat. As far as I can remember, as usual with us, one word led to another and I yelled at him to get the hell out of my car. He did and I burned rubber getting out of there.

That was the last I saw  him. I think we were nineteen by that time. He stopped by my house about six months after that. My brother was in the yard. Dana rolled down his car window and told my brother to tell me he was getting married on Saturday.         End of story.

I looked up his obituary and signed the online guestbook and mentioned that I had dated Dana at one time and I was very sorry for their loss.  A month later, I got an email from his widow. I told her a few stories from Dana's youth.

And we have stayed in contact.

The point of this is two-fold. His death brought some fun memories to the surface.And in the end, I think I may have gained a new friend.

It's not ren, I know. But it's been on my mind.

OK, so it is the title of a Temptaions album. Which brings me to the subject at hand.

Music.

 It was hot that night. Really hot. In a temperature-barometer-summer kind of hot. A lot of us had gone to the Bluesboro for some company, liquor and music. Only in my case, the music comes first.

After a bit of dancing and while the whipped cream initiations were in full swing, I got a mudslide and wended my way through the crowd. The  patio had a ledge and a big opening where theoretically a screen or vinyl window should be. It was the only ventilation and access to whatever breeze there was.

I took my boots off and found a spot on the ledge. Hopping up, I grabbed my drink and leaned against the upright. The sultry summer night breeze wafted through. I lifted my hair  off my neck to cool down. Mudslide in hand, I leaned against the upright, closed my eyes and absorbed the sounds of Motown.

Instantly I was transported in my mind to a place in my past. The summer, the night, the music and to a guy I thought I loved. Maybe I did.

I sat there and soflty sung, 'Oooh, baby baby....' and went back to that beautiful time in my past.

And at that moment, life did not get any better than that.