Fort Jams - Part 1

I loved building forts when I was a kid. There's music that sparks those memories. Like many hobbies turned obsession, my forts started as card board boxes, sheets, laundry baskets - simple stuff. By the time I was 6, I wasn't satisfied. I needed wood, something solid, a place that would stand up to a stiff wind and a big rain. Growing up I built lots of forts. I'd scout out spots for them and places from where I could "borrow" the best wood. Now I don't have a music memory from every fort, but I do have several very clear ones. This is my first.

My Dad, Big Daddy (it's a southern thing) and I built my first free standing real wood fort. It was a masterpiece. A 10 X 10 X 6 foot thing of beauty. I even convinced them to put in a trap door in the floor (it was on stilts) in case of an emergency - you know, marauders, siblings or neighborhood girls. It was in the woods behind our house with lots of big trees. After the unveiling , me and the guys put a rope swing next to it. Then we dug hole and filled it with water to swim in. It was paradise.

The fort was our sanctuary to make stuff, dream and goof off. We kept a cheap red transistor radio around that played while we played. One time I was holed up in it during a big thunderstorm. A song came on that I had heard before called "One" by Three Dog Night. It struck me differently at that moment as songs sometimes do. I remember thinking "man, this song is about being 'one' - it's about loneliness". Ummm...duh, it repeats "(number) one is the loneliest, (number) one is this loneliest, (number) one is the loneliest number that you'll ever do." Ok, I was all of six in 1971 and no where near a musical prodigy. Still, it's one of my first memories of connecting the lyrics of a song, not just the tune, to a feeling.

But you know, sitting in my fort sheltered from the thunderstorm and knowing that the swimming hole outside would be full with water again, being "one" seemed no where close to the loneliest number.