A logo we love, spotted over at Safeway in a monstrous pistachio display. They are good for yer heart, man, so, crack away and get down.

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Put yer goddamn hands together for the Detroit’s own, The Steele Brothers!

My Unca Pat, Unca Mike and “The Kidd,” Unca Kevin. Not to be messed with. Ever.

A loving threat, directed at any one of them: You better let me design the next album cover. Or else.

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Unca Kevin’s name came up when dad was here.

Here’s how my dad won Kevin over, way back in the day:

My mom comes from a big family. Outside of Detroit. Livonia and Farmington Hills. She had six little brothers and sisters. Irish Catholics. Hockey Players. Tiger fans. My Unca Kevin was the youngest, and when dad “came on the scene” in 1970, the little guy was only 7 or 8.

It wasn’t easy being the youngest. The older brothers and sisters had no problem capitalizing on him. The rule was that each kid got a bottle of pop out of an 8-pack. Of course, the older kids would guzzle their’s down. But not Kevin. He’d take his time, and, had an amazing way of protecting his property: He’d simply spit in his pop, in eyesight of his rivals, and, they’d keep their distance. Fair enough.

So Dad comes into the picture, and, it’s a full time gig winning everyone over with his “charm.” This one day, Dad’s over at the house. Kevin has his bottle of pop and dad goes in for the kill.

“Hey Kevin, gimme a drink of that.” The family suddenly starts yelling, “Jim, don’t do it!” and guffawing in disgust. Kevin’s bottle of pop had all sorts of floaters and backwash and whoknowswhats in it.

Kevin handed the bottle over slowly, Dad grabbed it and chugged it down.

And from that day on, Kevin and Dad were brothers.

That’s how it goes. A true story.

Someday, I’ll tell you my dad’s famous story about “The Bed Pan And An Ailing Relative.” But not yet.

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A handful of old letterheads. Just plain great.