I must confess: Spring can really hang you up the most. That’s an old standard popularized by Ella Fitzgerald, Betty Carter and others — for the benefit of all you Philistines out there. That reminds me that there was a girl in elementary school named Phyllis Stein. Boy, was she in for a world of trouble down the road. . . . But I digress. Spring gets me blue. It shouldn’t, but it does. That’s because I’m trapped up here in Albany, sitting in the statehouse, going over legislation, budgets, all those stuffed shirts droning on and on. Man, what a drag. I’m smelling the flowers. I’m hearing the birds singing. The ladies are walking with a spring in their step. (Michelle, you know I love you, honey.) I’m thinking I might just skip out the back door, get me a Mr. Softee — with sprinkles — and see what kind of mischief I can get myself into. Hey, I’m the governor. I deserve it. Don’t you think?
Tags: Betty, Carter, Confession, David, Ella, Fitzgerald, Governor, Mr. Softee, New, Paterson, spring, York
