For years, he complained about the Eagles’ “Take It Easy”, because, “there are no flat-bed Fords,” until I sent him a picture of one.
Even misheard lyrics are subjected to his scrutiny. He thought “California Dreaming” contained the line, “the preacher lights the coals,” and seriously considered whether churches in the sixties used coal-burning stoves.
I wrote a humorous poem about a woman who forgets her ex-boyfriend’s name, and Eric wondered if I had had so many lovers I couldn’t remember them all.
I’ve never asked what he thinks of people who write murder mysteries.
