Being butch and Barry Manilow

I had a 45-minute drive yesterday. I was tired of listening to sports radio and NPR. Even my 80s station didn’t appeal.

So, I popped open my four-CD collection of Barry Manilow’s greatest hits. I belted out the lyrics to “I Write the Songs” and “Mandy” and “Weekend in New England.”

It felt like the unbutchest thing I’ve done in a long time. Even though there was Lola “with yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there.”

But I didn’t care. It was just me and Barry in my Altima “sin...