In 1969 we gathered in the high school auditorium so the authorities could tell us what music not to listen to. The Doors were definitely out as was the Jefferson Airplane. “You know what pills they mean when they say, ‘One pill makes you larger.’ Don’t you?” The presenter saved his ire for the MC5 because of their radical politics. Interestingly, one of its members Fred “Sonic” Smith went on to marry Patti Smith. In any case, the presenter wasted his breath. My friends and I already had these albums.

The first concert I attended was by Mason Prophet in Naperville, Illinois. I soon moved to Indianapolis, got my first car, and could finally see all the bands I’d been listening to. I saw a lot of great bands – Santana, Jethro Tull, The Who (a little later), Yes, ELP, Johnny and Edgar Winter, and (guilty pleasure) Grand Funk Railroad. For some reason they always played a recording of Traffic’s “Low Spark of High-Heeled Boys” before the shows. To this day, I always think of checking out the girls in the audience whenever I hear that song. Frank Zappa stopped his concert to address the audience saying, “If you can vote or can influence somebody who can vote, please have your mayor build a better auditorium so we don’t have to play in this cow barn the next time we come to your city.”

The weirdest event in Indianapolis came when King Crimson was playing “21st Century Schizoid Man.” The power cut our right in the middle of the instrumental. The musicians looked at their instruments and eventually walked off stage. It turned out that the authorities cut off the concert so we could all go home before curfew. The audience got to their feet and booed. Eventually, the power came back on and the musicians picked up where they left off.

I have another good memory of Elvis Costello playing in Columbia, Maryland. He really loves to perform and did encore after encore. Someone told me it was his birthday that night. For the last song, he came out wearing a gorilla suit and played some 1950s cover song. It was the best.

Selling books at the Encinitas Street Fair. All are gluten-free, locally grown, and contain no artificial flavors.

In 1998 I developed a condition like carpal tunnel syndrome in my wrists due in large part to my work at a medical software company. After only five minutes at the keyboard, my hands would ache and any further effort just made them worse. All I could do was sit in my cubicle and stare. The Workers Comp doctors offered anti-inflammatories and little hope. I left my job thinking I’d never work again.

Eighteen months later, my COBRA insurance ran out. Private medical insurance salesmen offered attractive premiums and then refused to insure me even though Workers Comp paid for all medical care related to my injuries. I had to settle for an expensive HIPAA plan and ended up paying $600 a month.

Fortunately, my hands healed somewhat and I found another job. I stayed for twelve years until the government refused to renew our contract. We closed the office in 2014 and I was out of work once again. I had no luck finding work and decided spend a few years as a full-time author. Thank God for Obamacare. After some bureaucratic difficulties, I was able to obtain health insurance despite my preexisting condition. Even without the subsidies, I would pay roughly $600 a month, just like I did twelve years earlier. The subsidy cuts my cost by two thirds.

Without Obamacare, I’d probably have to pay a fortune for health insurance because I’m in my early sixties. Proposed Republican replacements like fancy savings accounts and buying insurance from states with shoddy regulations make no sense when one hospital stay can cost the equivalent of a year’s salary. There’s something seriously wrong when a country can’t provide healthcare to its people.