I've been having trouble consolidating my thoughts. I believe this difficulty stems from having spent an hour last week sitting in the park in the fog, listening to coworker Derek play a medley of '70s rock hits on the acoustic guitar.

We were ostensibly rehearsing for the company picnic, an event for which I inexplicably agreed to provide musical entertainment in the form of myself. I don't know what I thought rehearsal would be like, but neither the fog nor Derek's sheer enthusiasm factored in.

"How about this?" he'd say, launching into the riff from "Magic Carpet Ride," nodding at me to join in. Which I did. Which I did! There, seated atop the picnic table, in the fog, trying not to criticize the errors in grammar.

I like to dream! (Yes, yes)
Right between my sound machine

What else could I do, seated there on the picnic bench, with Derek and his acoustic guitar, in the fog?

"OK, how about this one?"

People smile and tell me I'm the lucky one...
We've just begun. I think I'm gonna have a son...

Of course I sang along. Don't even ask me that question. What could I do? Derek is a nice guy, just one more comfortable with sitting on a picnic bench in the fog, freely singing to the large crowd of high school students playing basketball, and the people walking their dogs. And staring, there was a fair amount of staring.

After forty-five minutes, perhaps sensing my reluctance, Derek switched to solo mode, performing a string of hits that spanned the decades, from Led Zeppelin "Misty Mountain Hop" to Toad the Wet Sprocket.

"OK, do you know this one?" Derek asked, rolling into a stunning dispaly of fretwork and harmonics that I guessed had been originally performed by Rush. "That's right!" he said, pointing the guitar pick at me before continuing on, singing some song about his uncle who has a country place no one knows about, and a secret car. (Naturally, because it is by Rush, the song focuses less on the actual car than the dystopian society that outlawed the car's existence.) If you're feeling full of yourself, or on top of the world, I recommend a long stint in the fog in a public park with a kindly coworker fond of prog rock.

I hope to recover soon, but I am left with a nagging feeling that record of my experience exists somewhere on YouTube, or Candid Camera, or something. If you see it, please send me the URL.

Oh, and also: I am looking for recommendations on songs I actually would be willing to perform at the picnic. Artists I would prefer to avoid: Shawn Colvin, Natalie Merchant, Toad the Wet Sprocket, Rush, Yes, the Moody Blues, and Suzanne Vega. All suggestions welcome.

Star of the day. . .John Kay