. . .
Weirdly enough, there weren’t a lot of records in my house when I was growing up. While my parents were definitely into the 1950s rock and roll of their teen years, the responsibilities of children and their belief that pop music was something that you outgrew meant that there were no Beatles or Stones or even Monkees records in my house when I was a kid.
But there was Peter, Paul & Mary. Or at least their greatest hits album, which came out the year I turned eight. So I listened to it a lot as a pre-teen — though not nearly as much as the Bob & Ray and (sorry) Bill Cosby albums that they also had around that time, not to mention the Winnie-The-Pooh and Royal Guardsmen records that I wore out — but pretty much rejected it when I hit my teen years.