ABSTRACT
It had been a tough day at the office. After dinner, I sat down to watch the news, which was depressing. I turned it off in the middle of some mind-numbing drivel about Trooper gate. I turned on my favorite classical music channel and took up where I had left off in the latest Dale Brown novel. As I sipped an ice cold Corona and lime on this warm Indian summer evening, I was abruptly distracted by the opening chorus of Carl Orff’s Carmina Burana. I had sung that piece many times and had listened to its many variations over the years. To me it always revealed surprises and evoked many memories. As I took another sip I was transported to a hot sultry afternoon in San Luis where I first saw a beer bottle actually being made.
