Back in the days of alcohol, drugs, and beginning to hone the skills necessary for a life of drifting I strolled into the lounge at the Hawthorne Hotel in Salem, MA, right on the Commons, to sit and hear and watch Bobby Hebb sing ‘Sunny’ and a bunch of his other songs. I was just a kid.
A number of years before, younger and setting off on that colorful substance path, a sophomore at Cape Cod Community College, I was visited in my shared cottage by a boy named Bob Davis, who showed with pockets of pills – reds, blues, black beauties – so as to help get the show on the road. He also shared with me music new to my ears, and in particular the albums of The Electric Flag.
It has always struck me as good fortune and very cool that I got to sit in a room with the man who wrote and sang ‘Sunny” and hear him sing it right there. And, time flowing in all directions, to have Bob D roll into the West Yarmouth winter rental with a pocket full of Tuinals and turn me on to a different, and for me, more engaging version. Yeah, this very me – terminally hip and chock filled with soul.
Such a song – “Sunny, thank you, thank you, thank you for that smile upon your face.” Like saving the planet.
from a mountain bench 
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