As the thunder rumbles overhead on a sultry, steamy Wisconsin afternoon, I think back to what we often did on this kind of a summer day back in the mid-’70s, when we were growing up in the suburbs of Wausau, Wisconsin.

Everyone ate lunch and dinner at home, so most of the action took place in the afternoon. The routine was much the same, day after day. Eat lunch, hop on your bike and take off. We lived out beyond where the sidewalks ended, so I had to ride along the highway for a mile or so before getting into the subdivisions.

I’d make the rounds of my friends’ houses. We’d hook up and head out. We hung out at the pool where our friend Herb worked. The ladies loved Herb, so it was good to be his pal. We also hung out at the other pool in town, the one where plenty of good-looking girls worked. My brother married one.

When pool break time came at 3 p.m., we’d head to the Stop N Go and hang out there for a while, seeing who came by. Our pal Marty lived around the corner from the Stop N Go, and we’d convene there for late-afternoon TV — “Match Game” followed by ancient Three Stooges or Flash Gordon shorts. And then home for dinner.

Of course, there are songs I associate with those days. This is one.

“Music,” John Miles, from “Rebel,” 1976.

Our local FM rock station usually was blasting from the speakers at the pools, so we’d sit there, checking out girls and listening to tunes. I vividly remember sitting in the bleachers outside the Rothschild pool in the early summer of 1976 and hearing this remarkable cut.

It careens back and forth from a huge, elegant orchestral sound to straight-up, guitar- and horn-driven rock, with Miles’ falsetto going right over the top. There was nothing else like it on the radio at the time. It certainly sounded out of place at the pool, which may be why I so vividly remember it after all these years.

Some years later, I bought this album solely for this cut. I found there’s more to “Rebel” than “Music.” Maybe we’ll get back to it another day.

If you wonder why Linda Ronstadt was such a big deal back in the ’70s, allow me to offer the following into evidence:

And, of course …

Case closed.

(That said, Ronstadt didn’t care much for the image such photos suggested.)

I see in the paper that Linda Ronstadt turns 62 today. That simply is not possible.

You know plenty of her songs. Here’s one you probably know, but may not have realized she’d covered.

“Girls Talk,” Linda Ronstadt, from “Mad Love,” 1980.

This album often is dismissed as “Linda goes New Wave,” and dismissed because it lacks the edgy qualities of the New Wave. Well, duh. This was, and is, a mainstream artist and a mainstream release … even if she did cover three Elvis Costello tunes, including this one.

Ronstadt’s cover of “Girls Talk” — with Nicolette Larson and Rosemary Butler singing backup — is good enough, but Dave Edmunds’ cover remains the definitive version as far as I’m concerned.

This album came into the house when my albums and the lovely Janet’s albums became our albums. It also has the hits “How Do I Make You,” “I Can’t Let Go” (covering the Hollies) and “Hurt So Bad” (covering Little Anthony and the Imperials).

“Mad Love” more or less marked the end of Ronstadt’s dominance on the rock charts. It was the last of six straight Ronstadt albums to crack the Top 5, debuting there and reaching No. 3.

The end of that dominance had nothing to do with fading popularity. Rather, the 34-year-old Ronstadt — who by then had spent 14 years as a folk and rock star — simply decided she wanted to pursue other interests, among them performing on Broadway and recording in a variety of musical styles.

You may have heard in the news last week that a certain professional athlete seems to be having a tough time making up his mind.

When we last wrote about this athlete, he had decided to retire and leave our town — Green Bay, Wisconsin — for good, or so it seemed. That occasion brought to mind just one tune. I don’t have it, so enjoy this video.

“I’m Tired,” as performed by Madeline Kahn in the 1974 film “Blazing Saddles.”

“I’m tired/Tired of playing the game/Ain’t it a crying shame/I’m so tired/God dammit I’m exhausted”

“Tired, tired of playing the game/Ain’t it a crying shame/I’m so tired”

Now, however, this athlete apparently is no longer tired. That brings to mind one more tune, and one tune only. I don’t have this one, either, so enjoy this video.

“Release Me,” Englebert Humperdinck, from his 1969-70 television show.

“Please release me, let me go/For I don’t love you anymore/To waste our lives would be a sin/So release me and let me love again

“Please release me, can’t you see?/You’d be a fool to cling to me/To live a life would bring us pain/So release me and let me love again”

For those of us who must continue to report about this athlete, and for the many fans of his team, the latest news brings to mind another tune, and one tune only. Again, I don’t have this one, so enjoy the video.

“I’m Doing Fine Now,” New York City, from 1973.

“I’m doing fine now, without you, baby”

A perfect song in, oh, so many ways.

Better late than never, I guess, to start digging Al Wilson.

He’s the smooth R&B and soul singer best known for hitting it big with “The Snake” in 1968 and “Show and Tell” in 1973. When Wilson passed away earlier this year, I wrote about how I’d long known those songs but had not known much else about the man behind those songs.

Fortunately, a wonderful record store in Iowa City, Iowa — the appropriately named Record Collector — has helped fill in the blanks. I stopped there on our recent trip to Iowa and found two gems by Al Wilson in the back of the soul and R&B records in the back of the store.

One was a still-sealed copy of Wilson’s 1968 debut release, “Searching for the Dolphins.” That’s the one with “The Snake.” I’d picked up a used copy weeks before, but it was in pretty rough shape.

The other nice find at Record Collector was “Show and Tell,” released in 1973 on Rocky Road Records and distributed by Bell Records. Though used, it was in fine shape.

As was Al Wilson. You know the title tune. What came next on the album was pretty good, too.

The second cut, “I’m Out To Get You,” is an uptempo R&B groove with a terrific horn chart, a smooth bass line and some fine ladies doing the backup vocals.

Al Wilson is pretty laid back himself, confidently assuring a lady they’re going to get together. The arrangement is reminiscent of Billy Paul’s “Me and Mrs. Jones” in a couple of quiet places, but when it’s all done, you know a more vigorous Wilson closed the deal.

“I’m Out To Get You,” Al Wilson, from “Show and Tell,” 1973. It’s out of print.

The song is available on “Show & Tell: The Best of Al Wilson,” a 2004 CD release with much of his mid-career material, including the first four cuts from this 1973 album. There’s nothing from his earlier albums released on Soul City Records, though.

This one sounds like ELO, but it’s Dave Edmunds.

You can thank Dave’s pal Jeff Lynne for that. He wrote and produced this tune from “Riff Raff,” which Dave released on Columbia Records in 1984. It’s one of three such cuts on the album.

Lynne’s work with Edmunds in 1983 and 1984, though sounding much like ELO, hints at his work to come with the Traveling Wilburys at the end of the decade.

“S.O.S.,” Dave Edmunds, from “Riff Raff,” 1984. The album link is to an import CD that puts this album and Dave’s “I Hear You Rockin’” live album from 1987 on the same disc.

“Riff Raff” was the last of four studio albums released by Edmunds during the ’80s.