SOME VELVET MORNING

Lana came downstairs in her pajamas.

"Whatcha doing?" she sang, in a lilt that went up and then down.

"Just checking e-mail."

She looked at the screen for a few seconds, and finding nothing of interest, moved her eyes around the desk until they landed on the adjacent wall.

"Why do you still have a 2007 calendar?"

"I just never got around to buying a new one. Plus, that's one of my all-time favorite groups."

"The Velvet Underground." She said it in a way that made it sound as if someone had gone and buried a swatch of velvet. I never heard anyone say it that way.

"Yup. Here, wait." I pulled her onto my lap, and brought up iTunes.

"OK, listen." I started with Sunday Morning. "Pretty, huh?"

Lana nodded. "But they could also sound like this." I switched to I Heard Her Call My Name. "Noisy, right?"

Finally, I clicked on Head Held High. That got her. She started to dance right in the seat, like a motor had been tripped.

"What do you think that means: head held high?" I asked. She didn't respond-- she just kept rocking. Not sure if she didn't hear me, or if she just didn't care.

Either way, it was the perfect answer, really...