I asked my cellphone to play J.J. Spaun the other day, though I meant to say J.J. Cale, the Clapton whisperer from Tulsa. If I may: I was distracted, reading about Venus Williams playing U.S. Open tennis at 2 a.m. in my morning paper. The phone decided, all on its own, to play JJ Grey & Mofro — not a band I knew, but an enjoyable happenstance surprise. The internet traffics in happenstance.
My brother was born in Brooklyn in 1957, the year the Dodgers left the borough for Los Angeles. When David came of baseball age he fell under the spell of the New York Mets, and he’s been loyal to the Amazin’s (add air quotes to taste) ever since. Such…
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