Did you ever have one of those songs just take up residence in your mind?

Have I got a story for you. I was reminded of it this morning when I was power-napping after an early rise to take my grandkids to school to catch the bus for a band competition. That’s another story not relevant to today’s topic.

Anyway, I was in that state of suspended consciousness. I had Malt Shop Oldies on the television for background music, laid back in the recliner, closed my eyes and let nature do the rest. I could hear the music {although I didn’t hear my youngest in-home grandchild get up} and just drifted off to the sweet sounds of the ’50s and ’60s.

One of the songs — or at least one I remember hearing since I drifted off for the better part of an hour — was The Pied Piper by Crispian St. Peters. Even in my present state of mind, the song triggered a deep memory.

Oh, wait a minute. You never heard The Pied Piper by Crispian St. Peters? It turned into a Top 10 hit back in 1966, but my first recollection was when this British invasion made its appearance in my teenage world in northern New Jersey.

One Saturday night Bernie and Karen {yes, my Karen} and Nora and I were going on a double date. We picked up Karen and were heading to Nora’s to get her. From the back seat, I started singing {not very well, of course, which is why I had the reaction from them} “…I’m the Pied Piper … Follow me … I’m the Pied Piper … And I’ll show you where it’s at …”

“What!” they both screamed out almost simultaneously.

“It’s a song I heard earlier. I can’t get it out of my head.”

“You’re nuts,” said Bernie.

“No, really. I heard it earlier.”

“You’re just making that up,” added Karen.

“No, really. It’s by some English guy, Christian Somethingorother.”

“Get out of here,” added Karen. Turning to Bernie, she asked, “Where did you find this guy?” And my best friend adds, “Welcome to my world.”

But I kept singing the chorus {all I remembered at the time} until they turned up the radio to drown me out and we got to Nora’s.

Now, that could have been the end of the story, but they started calling me the pied piper. And Nora decided to jump on the bandwagon. For awhile, since the song was still not very popular and had little play time, I thought maybe I was imagining the song or was onto some really cool lyrics. Remember, back then we didn’t have the electronic resources to validate out thought processes.

Fast forward a week. We — the four of us — decided to head for the shore for the night. We’re doing about 60 on the Garden State Parkway. Bernie was driving. Karen and Bernie were talking. I was in the back nuzzling with Nora. All of a sudden, I hear The Pied Piper on the radio.

“That’s it!” I screamed.

Of course, that scared the bejeebers out of Bernie who immediately hit the brakes. As bodies rattled around the car {remember, no seat belts back then}, I added, “That’s it! That’s the song. The Pied Piper. Turn it up. I told you I wasn’t crazy!”

Well … the jury is still out on that. But I “discovered” The Pied Piper and whenever I do hear it — which is not often — my mind skips back to the summer of ’66.

Come on, babe … Follow me … Come on, babe … Trust in me … Come on, babe … Can’t you see … Come on, babe … Follow me … I’m the Pied Piper ..

THOUGHT TO REMEMBER: A conscience is what hurts when everything else feels great.