Do we become who we are out of nurture or nature? That’s the question people have been asking almost since they had time to sit and consider themselves and their place in the universe.It’s been claimed that Scott McKenzie’s “San Francisco” killed the hippie movement with that tender loving ballad, and if that’s true, then Harry Chapin, who made a name for himself by selling songs that were designed to rip out your soul and show it to you for no good reason other than that people would allow him, should be charged with ending the hippie ideals, where he attempted to personify his own short comings and bestow on us all, that we were doomed to be nothing more than the nurture, or lack thereof, that we were raised with. “Cat’s In The Cradle” is about the children of the 50’s, the people whom I grew up with … and if you believe in this song, our lives went sideways, out the window, and ended up standing on the same front step, looking over the same lawn, thinking the same thoughts, while becoming the a mirrored image of our parents. I hold deep disdain for this song and the lonely unshakable nearly inconsequential solitude and sonic atmosphere it creates, lowing a veil that keeps our heads lowered with eternal shame, shame that’s passed from one generation to another, rather then celebrating life, even if that means letting go of our parents.My father left each morning at the same time, in the same dark suit tie and hat that every other father wore … and if I rode with my mom to drop him off at the train station, he was instantly lost in a sea of other identical fathers. I’m sure the same thing applied to blue collar workers as well, happy with the overtime, and jumping at the chance for double time for working Saturday’s. This was what the counter culture movement was all about, this was why we shimmered ourselves with colourful clothing, expanded our minds with lysergic, and danced to the diamond sky with one hand waving free. Harry Chapin prophetically dropped this bomb on us at the tail end of 1974. I say prophetically, because the hippy days [daze] were slipping away, people were beginning lives, many were soaking their heads in capsules that numbed them of all emotion … and why shouldn’t they, the Vietnam War was over, the big lies were out of the box with Nixon taking the plunge, inner cities were spiraling out of control, becoming mere whispers of what they once were due to white flight and the rise of the suburban shopping mall. And yes, those who I grew up with were beginning to stretch out their arms, not to dance, but to get what they felt they deserved, forgetting all the values and education they learned from their magical mystery tour, and becoming the parents of punks and hair metal bands.So perhaps in his way, on an even grander scale than a simple song about a single father and a son, with the father longing for what he could not give, and begging for what he would never would never receive as he got older, becoming the child again, crying for emotional attachment and freedom that would never be realized, this song represents the unrealized American dream. But some of us survived the wave, some of us understood that material goals were not all that important, some of us remembered that there was pleasure in sharing with others for no good reason other than because we could.So, without a doubt, anyone who likes this song is probably sitting somewhere stuck in traffic, or looking out from a window seat on a train watching life go by, listening to this musical tragedy, wherein the three generations since its release, like a flash of cognitive thought, momentarily understanding the song's truth and implications … yet, because they’ve been locked into the ideal of nurture, they find their lives impossible to change, and like all good nurturing parents, passing these values onto their children, who pass them on again, and again.I’m out here, this song does not even register on my radar other than accidentally, where at 65 years old I find the world is no different today than it was when I was in the backseat with my mom, dropping my father off at the train station. I don’t mind if you look at me decked out in turquoise and silver bracelets, like I’m some sort of 60’s throwback, I know who I am and the power I have to change lives … I lament nothing, least of all the emotional baggage this song was intended to bestow on me.*** The song references several childhood images "The Cat's in the Cradle" is string game, a "Silver Spoon" is given to babies as a christening gift, "Little Boy Blue" and "Man in the Moon" are lines from old nursery rhymes. These same references eased their way into the drug lexicon of the 60's and 70's, with "The Cats in the Cradle" referencing nodding off, the "Blue" in "Little Boy Blue" was slang a popular amphetamine of the day, and of course a "Silver Spoon" was used for snorting cocaine, while "Man in the Moon" envisioned two things, the Space Race of the 50's and 60's, along with one of the most popular narcotics of all time, Quaaludes, because they looked like big round moons, channeling delightfully intoxicating Morpheus sleep.Review by Jenell Kesler