08/27/2021
By Kate Stone Lombardi
In the mid-1960s, my parents had a dark blue Mercury station wagon. On the passenger door, painted in red script under the window, were the words “The Rolling Stones.”
No, my parents were NOT fans of the band, though my older brother and sister were. I’m guessing my Dad had never heard of the Rolling Stones when he had the door custom painted. Our family name was “Stone” and my Dad thought this was funny. Get it? We were the Stones, rolling down the highway. He also used to sing a song that began, “Rolling stones gather no moss….” which he would sing, loud and off key, with the windows rolled down.
Ever so often, someone would look at our suburban family packed in the car and ask doubtfully, “Are you with the band?”
We were not. But we were. We kids all grew up loving the Stones. The band, I mean. And for all of Mick’s preening and Keith’s outrageousness, it was Charlie Watts who exuded the most confident cool. No need to be a peacock (though Lord knows the man could dress) – just his presence, and of course his playing, did the job.
RIP Charlie Watts. Thanks for the amazing music.
What a drag it is getting old.