(Originally ran Sept. 26)

I grew up on Top 40 radio - AM Top 40 at that. It was a great introduction to the world of pop music because the playlists were so broad. Almost any genre was game.

In 1971, you could hear country singer Lynn Anderson’s “Rose Garden” right after The Rolling Stones’ “Brown Sugar,” as close to a quintessential rock ‘n’ roll song as any.

Two years later, you might hear The Carpenters’ “Top of the World” squeezed between Grand Funk’s “We’re an American Band” and Marvin Gaye’s “Let’s Get It On.”

My record collection at that time, mostly 45s, reflected what the airwaves brought my way, with bubble-gum, Motown, hard rock and country platters all jostled together in my carrying case.

I turned on the radio and heard The Beatles and The Who and Bob Dylan, but also The Bee Gees, Seals & Crofts and Looking Glass ("Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl)").

And for one brief, shining moment in my life, I didn’t know the difference.

I don’t mean I thought everything sounded the same, just that I wasn’t aware that The Doors’ “Love Her Madly” would be considered a hipper choice than Cher’s “Gypsies, Tramps and Thieves.” So I bought both.

Around 12 or 13, the hard rock bug bit hard, and suddenly, some of my 45s seemed impossibly wimpy. My 45s singles, even stuff like Carole King, which no sane person should be embarrassed about, were relegated to a faraway closet, dissidents exiled under Marshall amp law.

But as I’ve gotten older, and being cool seems less and less important (or possible), some of my soft-rock favorites have found their way back into my shelves and files. Welcome back “Summer Breeze,” “Goodbye to Love,” “It’s Too Late” and, of course, “Brandy.” Somewhere, there’s a Bread CD with my name on it.

And if anyone finds that laughable, well, it don’t matter to me.