Chicago style pizza.

when i was a kid, every Friday meant a family trip to the Pizza Hut. like clockwork, my Dad would come home from work, we'd load up in the car, and drive across town to the Red Roof Inn of pizza establishments.

being a typical kid, i usually complained about those weekly trips, demanding some other fast food place instead. one that usually had the coolest toys in the kids meal that week. does anyone remember the California Raisins figurines from Hardees? i swear i have around 50 of those little purple dudes. at least 18 of them are holding a saxophone.

my memories of those weekly trips elicit one thing. the soulful sounds of Chicago.

i'm sure the jukebox had other records, but we never heard them. instead, Peter Cetera serenaded Mom, Pop and i every Friday, as we enjoyed our thin-crust supreme pizza.

was this some devised scheme between the band's record label and the suits at Pizza Hut? who knows. but it worked on me, and whoever else frequented the Pizza Hut of New Albany, MS, during the 1980s. now every time i hear "Will You Still Love Me?" i have immediate thoughts of a supreme pizza. no onions or black olives.

cause i can't go on. no, i can't go on. i can't go on. if i'm own my on.