"Charlie and Annie" by Stephen Kellogg and the Sixers, Tuesday, July 13, 2021

Stephen Kellogg parted with his band, The Sixers, in 2012. Though the band doesn't consider themselves right-wing, they were named the “Armed Forces Entertainer of the Year” in 2010. Kellogg continues to play for the troops and raises money for St. Jude's every holiday season. His last album with the Sixers, Gift Horse is a treasure of Northeastern folk rock tunes, delving into topics of family, love, religion, and existential dread. In a concert clip, Kellogg describes "Charlie and Annie" as his memories from middle school during a time he didn't feel very safe. The song talks about an ill-fated romance between alcoholic Charlie, who shows his kindness just enough to partially redeem himself through the singer. He's a victim of his addictions, though the singer doesn't let him off the hook. Annie is a beautiful woman who had quite the past before she got tied down by "Charlie and motherhood." 

HIS RANTS COULD BE CONTAGIOUS. The puzzle came in a tin the shape of an Easter Egg and it smelled kind of like candy, too. There were so many activities to in the lobby and the chairs were pretty comfortable too. Allan's sister, Jessy, was pretty content with the coloring and activity books their mom had given them, but Allan like the puzzles. The lobby smelled like new paint and the carpet was also quite new and soft. "Mom, Dad, where are we going?" "We have to go to Utica." "Why are we in the car so long?" "We're going to a very good pizza place." "But Roma's is much closer." "Mom and Dad have an appointment in Utica." "What kind of appointment?" "It's... uhh... kind of like a doctor's appointment." "Are you okay?" "Yes, we're just trying to be as healthy as possible." "You probably don't remember it, but when you and Jess were really young, your mother and I went to counseling," Jerod told Allan, while he was venting on the porch. "You also don't know this, but I was furious with your mother. When she mailed her wedding ring to Doug Batchelor, I thought she had lost her mind. I didn't care that Adventists didn't wear wedding rings and throwing my records out in the snow. You don't know this, but the counselor said she had to change." "What happened?" "She did. And I changed. And I started driving truck."

WE WERE ALL AFRAID HE WAS DESCRIBING US. "But why didn't you get divorced?" Allan remembered the support group when he was in elementary school, a special pull-out session called Banana Splits. "Mrs. Kellogg, I wanna go!" "No, AJ, this is only for kids with divorced parents." He always wondered if they were given ice cream every time. One time when going to bathroom, he walked past the classroom as it was ending. "Remember, it's never your fault," the balding male teacher in the center of the room said. "Of course it's not my fault if my parents got divorced," Allan thought, "It's my parents. They can't stop fighting." Allan thought about the scream matches just after bed time that took place maybe once a month or so. He thought of the coldness in the mornings. As he got older, he thought about the general antagonism of his parents' conversations, the edge of accusation whether in the car or in the living room. The absolute worst was on vacation, being stuck in the back seat of a Toyota Corolla with them fighting in the front seat and Allen and his sisters fighting over space in the back seat. "Your mother and I don't believe in divorce. You see, everyone of your mom's family members said I was going to leave her. Your mother, too, was traumatized by your grandparents' divorce. Marriage is for better or worse, and when you have kids, you have to take care of them by providing a stable home. You'll understand that someday," Jerod said to Allan, putting out his cigarette, and heading inside the house.

Read the lyrics on Genius.

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