In the summer of 1986, I’d just graduated from college and had gotten an apartment one block away from the Civic Stadium in Portland, Ore. One afternoon, while I sat on the building stoop drinking beer with my neighbors, we listened to the first few minutes of “Young Americans.” Bowie was appearing that night at the stadium, and they did sound checks all afternoon, playing that one song. The song would start, then stop abruptly, then begin again. It played over and over, blasting the neighborhood. I remember the sunshine, the song, and how everything in the world seemed possible with a college degree.