Letter Received by Kevin Cronin, Esq.

Dear Kevvy-poo,

I bet you’re surprised to hear from me. In fact, maybe you don’t even remember who I am. Let me refresh your memory.

I was in the fifth row when you played Summerfest in Milwaukee in 1979. We had been making eye contact throughout the show. Maybe you could sense how many nights I’d sat at home in Sheboygan playing “You Can Tune a Piano, but You Can’t Tuna Fish” and dreaming about what you and I would say to each other if we met. I thought there was a connection between us, but when you looked side stage then pointed at me during “Ridin’ the Storm Out” I knew you felt it too. When a roadie gave me a backstage pass and whispered “Kevin wants to get to know you a little better” I knew my dreams were about to come true.

Before long, we were in your penthouse suite, overlooking the bright lights of Milwaukee. I’m a small town girl so I must admit to feeling a little overwhelmed when you offered me a couple of lines so we could “get the magic started”, but this was meant to happen so I went along. I was starting to feel a little woozy when you said “baby, slip out of those hot clothes while I put some mood music on the hi-fi”. When you said “mood music” I wasn’t expecting Jefferson Starship but you know, whatever floats your boat. I freshened up my lipstick. I don’t have to paint a picture of what happened next, except to say it was magic. And just when I thought we couldn’t go any higher, you shoved an amyl popper under my nose so we could “keep pushin’”. When it was done, I looked in your eyes and knew I was going to keep on lovin’ you. And that’s when you dropped the bomb: “you’re beautiful baby, but could you keep this quiet? I don’t want my wife to find out”.

Well, I went through some hard times after that. I guess you took it on the run, it was time for you to fly, yada yada yada. Well, sorry Kev, but it isn’t going to be that way. As you can see from the enclosed photograph, I have evidence of our meeting. I imagine it will be somewhat difficult to explain to the “little lady” what you’re doing changing records with the sexy little number in the lacy black unmentionables. So I guess now it’s you who has to “roll with the changes”, Kev. You’ll be hearing from me periodically with a list of demands you’ll have to meet if you want to keep this thing a secret.

Jefferson Starship, indeed.

Yours truly,

Lisa from Sheboygan