The Man from March Ninth

I always go to Albany via Western Avenue. 787 and Central Avenue, at least east of Wolf Road, confuse me. Every place I need to get to downtown I can get to from Western Avenue.

This means I always pass McKown Road. And when I do, I blow a kiss. Not that I know anyone who lives there, but in my heart it will always be the home of the Man From March Ninth.

He is not real. He never was. He is a character portrayed by a player. But it took me many March Ninthes -- and all the days in between -- to understand that. I believed in the Man From March Ninth as fervently as I once believed that Santa Claus brought me toys, the Tooth Fairy left dimes under my pillow, and God would send me to hell for swearing or impure thoughts.

Also to be found at 57 McKown road is the Woman from March Eighth -- the trusting soul I was before I believed the lies of the Man From March Ninth. She is still alive, but these days comes out only occasionally -- when the music works its magic and she remembers how fortunate she is to be surrounded by people who don't play games, use one another and tell lies to get what they want. This is a beautiful thing, but also a double-edged sword, because being surrounded by such people left her unprepared for the Man From March Ninth.

I could go on, but most of you know the story and I don't feel like rehashing it. Besides, songwriter Tim Hardin summed it all up beautifully. You may not have heard of Tim Hardin but may know the song from the singing of Rod Stewart, the Carpenters, or a certain gray-haired, guitar-strumming, non-T-shirt wearing lawyer with the initials HJ.

If I listened long enough to you
I'd find a way to believe that it's all true
Knowing that you lied straight faced while I cried
Still I look to find a reason to believe

If I gave you time to change my mind
I'd find a way to leave the past behind
Knowing that you lied straight faced while I cried
Still I look to find a reason to believe

Someone like you makes it hard to live
Without somebody else
Someone like you makes it easy to give
Never thinking of myself

If I listened long enough to you
I'd find a way to believe that it's all true
Knowing that you lied straight faced while I cried
Still I look to find a reason to believe
Still I look to find a reason to believe
Still I look to find a reason to believe