When I was a very young, I remember a friend of my Dad’s named Ed once peppered me with questions about myself. Ed had a young family himself and was easy around kids. He asked what my favorite song was.
“’Charlie Brown‘,” I said.
“Oh yes,” Ed said, and he sang a line of it: “ ‘Why is everybody always picking on me?’ What a great song,” Ed said with a chortle.
I was simply amazed that a grownup had the slightest clue about the Coasters.
Back then I knew of two kinds of music. There was the music in my WWII-generation parents’ LPs collection. It was made up of popular music, jazzy and showtuney. Then there was the fresh sound of rock and roll on the radios at the shops and gas stations and especially blaring from the tinny transistor radios the teenagers played when sitting out on the steps of our Brooklyn neighborhood.