I was a messed up teenager living in Florida and I changed schools and homes alot. At one point we lived in this blue stucco house on a snake-infested canal and I remember this old guy two doors down listening to his Perry Como records on his screened back patio. One in particular was "Catch A Falling Star and Put It In Your Pocket". When I had friends over we'd laugh at this guy's music and holler at him, but all in fun. When it was just me, though, sitting in the waning summer light with all the festive streaks of pastel cotton candy, frogs in the cattails- I'd know, even at thirteen, I was experiencing a magic moment. I was alive. Uncle Steve says the most important things are the hardest things to say; he's right.