Rosenbush Cafe

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Groovy

Feelin’ Groovy

Groovy, man

In the groove

I’m feelin’ groovy, man

In the 1850s it meant “highly stimulating” with merely groove + y, but by 1937 expanded to include marvelous, then wonderful, and through the hipness of the sixties, when groovin’ to music, free love, pharmaceuticals and Flower Power paved the golden brick roads with immense pleasing, finally found a home from Haight Ashbury to The Bronx. Those golden bricks were solid pounds of grass, often from Acapulco de Juárez but that is another story.

Long playing vinyl albums had grooves; the needle touched down and produced nearly 80 years of pleasure until in 1981 records finally went the way of the extinction express, although in recent years they have re-emerged, unfortunately all digitally enhanced, destroying the analog memories of truely groovy.

Viet Nam was a bummer.

Nothing groovy about WAR. The lost souls from America, and other countries, and the Southeast Asians who were left to unprotected face the Communist Khmer Rouge’s genocide solution and never allowed to enjoy the grooving experience, sadly.

Woodstock was a stoned groove.

Now that Stella has gotten her groove back we’ve returned from whence we came.

Only took 150 years.

Groovy, lady

reposted from July 31, 2008 when no one was around; additional thoughts added but the original post remains for purists.