I had settled into his life of retirement at thirty, five years
later than he had originally predicted on his tenth birthday. He
still remained busy, and enjoyed the fresh air of his estate,
walking the dog, and feeding the wild birds. After a particularly
nice afternoon out, he returned home. Angela met him at the
door.
“There was a phone call for you while you were out,” she told
him.
I was a bit surprised. He preferred the experience of direct
contact, and most whom he knew made it a practice to drop by, even
unannounced. Everyone was welcome.
His curiosity was raised, “Oh? Who was it?”
“Some fellow by the name of Todd Rundgren. He called about an hour
ago,” Angela revealed.
“A hint of recognition crossed I’s face. “Todd Rundgren ... Hmm....
Seems I've heard of him before somewhere. Wasn't he a
record producer several years back?”
“I think so,” indicated Angela, “I think he had a musical career on
the side as well, though he was never particularly successful. I
remember reading that he released an album that pretty much
destroyed his career.”
“That’s right,” I recalled. “He moved into a direction that did not
sit well with the fans, and when he tried to go back to writing pop
hits, he’d lost all credibility.”
Angela pointed her finger at I, “Don’t be so quick to criticize,”
she warned. “You’ve been down that path, too. You were lucky to
survive.”
I was a little worried, “I hope he isn't going to try to get me
to start playing again. That's all over. Did he say?”
Angela gave I the message. “No, just left his number. He's
staying at the motel down the road. Why don't you give him a
call?”
I capitulated. “Yeah, I guess so. What's the number?”
“It’s right there in you hand,” she said.
“Oh, yeah, right. 543-1024?”
“That's it.”
I picked up the phone, punched out the number and waited for an
answer.
Angela was curious as she heard the one-sided conversation.
“Hello, this is I Mall.” He paused. “Yes, Todd, I’ve heard of you.”
He rolled his eyes. “Oh, I see. Hold on.” He covered the phone with
his hand and spoke to Angela, “Are you OK with a visitor?”
“When have we ever been not OK with a visitor?”
I resumed his conversation on the phone, “Sure, come on over.” Yet
another pause and then, “Alright, see you then.”
He hung up the phone. “He'll be over in a couple of
minutes.”
“That means he'll probably stay for dinner,” Angela surmised.
“Or if he isn’t expecting it, we can at least invite him. I'd
better get something ready.”
“What are we having tonight?” I inquired.
“I think it'll be those steaks I bought last weekend,” she
stated matter of factly. “He should be quite impressed since not
too many people can afford them these days.”
“Now you know we’re not ones to show off our affluence and
we're not here to impress him. He’s been around. I’m sure
there’s little that impresses or surprises him these days. He's
just coming over to talk business. But just the same, don't
burn them; I think that the usual ten seconds puts too much of a
char on the edges. Try eight or nine.”
“Be glad to,” Angel admitted, thankful for modern conveniences.
“You know how I hate to spend a lot of time in the kitchen.”
Angela left for the kitchen, and I stepped over to the piano. He
began to noodle out a tune. Angela returned from her brief stint in
the kitchen and inquired, “What are you playing?”
I was totally absorbed in he composition of a song. He replied
without thinking, “The piano.”
Angela was mildly exasperated. “I know that, but what song?”
“Oh, just something that came out. Maybe I can work it into
something.”
“It's very pretty. But you’ve retired. Why are you
writing?”
“Well, you can take the musician away from the music, but you can’t
take the music out of the musician. Sometimes these things just
happen.”
As if interrupting I’s thought train, a knock came at the
door.
“That must be Mr. Rundgren.” I was lost in his own formality and
said, “I'll get it.”
As I opened the door, there was Todd Rundgren. He sang out, “Hello,
it's me!”
“Ha, Ha, yeah I get it. Your big ‘hit.’ Come on, come in,” he
called over to Angela. “Angela, Mr. Rundgren is here.” That damned
formality. What had gotten into him?
Todd could sense a bit of tension and asked I, “Please, just call
me Todd. I’m just a real man like you.”
I introduced Todd to Angela, and as he did, he took her hand and
kissed it elegantly. “A pleasure.”
“I’ve just made some dinner, won’t you join us?” Angela
asked.
“Of course, thanks. I’d be honored,” replied I.
Angela shot a look towards I, “I was speaking to Todd.”
Todd chuckled and replied, “Yes, thank you.”
They sat down at the table and I was anxious to find out what this
was all about. “Let's get down to business. What's on your
mind?”
Todd began, “I'm sure you know this is an election year.”
I nodded. “Right, I'm already a registered voter. My parents
were really into that election stuff. But sometimes it’s not too
good to get involved. It nearly broke them up when I was young.
They were split on the candidates. I guess my dad eventually got
his way, though. Ol’ Tricky Dick made it to the White House after
all. And look how that turned out. And I swore that if Reagan got
elected, I’d leave the country. Well, unfortunately he did, but I’m
still here. So much for commitment.”
Both Todd and Angela were surprised by I’s mini-tirade. It was so
out of character for him, but Todd continued.
“That's good, but it's not important right now. What I came
to tell you is that I'm running for the president this
year.”
“Why? Is it one of those pledge marathons?” I countered. “Well, you
can count me out. Like I told you, he's not even my party and I
wouldn’t consider supporting him in any way.”
I’s ire was unexpected, and Todd tried to calm down the situation.
“No, no, no, no, no. I'm running for the presidency. I want to
be elected.”
“So what does that have to do with me?” I protested. “I've got
nothing to do with the election.”
“I'm looking for a campaign manager and you sound right for the
job.”
“What makes me sound so good as a campaign manager?” I was
intrigued, but unconvinced.
“You've got the notoriety I need to shove me to the top. I saw
the results of your world reform crusade. If it wasn't for
you...”
I and Angela looked at each other with a smile, “He's playing
our song.”
Todd was confused, “What?”
I responded, “Oh, nothing. Go ahead.”
“Well, if it wasn't for you, “ another chuckle but Todd let it
pass, “we might not be sitting here today. With the threat of a
nuclear holocaust at the back door...”
Todd was surprised as I shot out of his chair and ran to the door,
he opened it and peered out. He returned, confused but
relieved.
Angela asked “What's wrong, I?”
“I thought Todd said there was about to be a nuclear holocaust at
our back door!”
Todd assured I, “Just a figure of speech. I didn’t mean it
literally.”
I responded, “Well watch it with those figures, I nearly flunked
school math.”
Angela was getting a little flustered at I’s erratic behavior. “I,
will you quit clowning!”
Todd tried to resume his decorum. “Anyway, I'd like to point
out how with your inspirational ‘World Theme Song’ you caused the
world to settle back in peace again. That's what I need working
on my side.”
“We already have candidates running in both parties. What party are
you running for?” I asked.
Todd simply replied, “The Treed party.”
“Treed?”, I scoffed. “Never heard of it.”
Todd replied, “Of course not. I just made it up this
morning.”
I was getting skeptical. “Why Treed?”
Todd explained. “Do you know what a cat does when he's chased
up a tree by a dog? He fights back! I feel that I've been treed
by the politicians of this country and I'm ready to fight back.
Will you do it?”
Todd’s explanation made sense, in an odd way. He was starting to
get through to I’s suppressed political support leanings.
I conceded. “Looks like I've been Treed. Who's your main
opponent?”
“Well, besides the major party candidates, of course, there’s
Senator Davis from Northern California.”
“Have you given any thought about a running mate? You have to think
geographically as well as politically on that one,” I
advised.
“I'm originally from Philly, but since I've relocated to
L.A. it looks like my best bet is someone from the South.”
“What, you’re talking Mexico? Brazil?”
“No, I'm thinking more on the line of San Diego, but I
don't know anybody in San Diego.”
“Who does?” I countered.
“Maybe I should focus my attention on Alabama or Arkansas.” Todd
considered.
“What's so special about those states?” I asked.
“I've got some old musical acquaintances down there. Some
fellows from Lynyrd Skynyrd and Black Oak Arkansas live
there.”
I thought a moment, “Treed, hmm? I can see the headlines already
Todd Rundgren Easily Eradicates Davis!”
Todd agreed, “It does sound good. Now all I need is a theme song.
I’m hoping that where else you come in.”
I moved over to the piano and started playing the song he’d earlier
become lost in. The lyrics came out naturally.