Thank you Sahara. Occasionally I consider what I’d like played at my funeral - keeping it to three. And I use the word “occasionally” to place some friction on the plates of truth. The song list can alter from time to time or mood to mood, but as this day of reckoning is alas on the horizon - I find the list stabilizing. I call it “2 Dylan’s and a Prine” Aside from the actual songs, I like the way that sounds; like something I’d ask for as a regular at a nondescript bar where the bar tender is the only one that knows what I wanted. Give me two Dylans and a Prine. The visual of that exchange fits the mood. The intimacy of the exchange is well suited to express what mattered for the modest group of attendees. Two Dylan’s and a Prine. I know the three. The bartender . . . she serves me and she is always right - even if the drinks are never the same. Thank you for serving me tonight. Tonight, you are the bartender in my story. Two Dylans and a Prine.
