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That's the way I heard that. And this is the way I heard this. Oh. It was the 60s, a summer of love, the newsman awakened before dawn, rolled over and considered the temptation beneath the sheet, the luscious curves, the strong, slender legs, the taut alabaster skin waiting for his touch. He had dreamed of these things all night. And now the proximity of such earthly delights filled him with passion. But alas, duty called.

The newsman needed to be in his seat by five a.m. as his audience slowly awakened their coffee pots dripping lazily to life. Sighing deeply, he slipped quietly from the last place he wished to vacate and padded quietly across the room in his stocking feet. Despite the ungodly call time, the newsman enjoyed his job. Besides, he knew his love would be waiting for him when he returned, waiting perhaps for a little afternoon delight.

As the newsman stepped off the moonlit porch, the screen door closed behind him with the time honored smack upstairs. His love did not awaken. But in the bedroom down the hall, another set of eyes popped open, alert and ready for action. The eyes of his younger brother, Alexander, was not blessed with the newsman's wavy hair and schoolboy grin.

Nor was he blessed with a job, which is partially why he and his current plaything were occupying the same house as his older brother. Indeed, Alexander did not feel blessed at all.

He felt cursed, cursed with a growing desire for the forbidden fruit just down the hall, never mind his own love. Strung out on the bed beside him, Alexander was tempted by the beauty in his brother's bedroom, waiting beneath the rumpled sheet.

And so, seconds after the screen door smacked shut, Alexander crept down the hall and tiptoed into his brother's room, where he stared with naked envy, even concealed those two sumptuous orbs aroused in him an uncontrollable desire, as did those legs, slender and strong, trembling with lust, Alexander pulled back the linen, reached out his hand and gently brushed that taut alabaster skin. The news man's beloved trembled beneath his tentative touch.

Alexander caressed some more, and the trembling increased. There was no resistance. The two became one. And so it began an affair for the ages. Every morning, after the screen door smacked shut, Alexander entered his brother's bedroom, where the forbidden fruit waited beneath the sheet. There, his passion ripened into obsession, an obsession that grew for decades but nearly withered and died the day his older brother returned from work early in the driveway.

The news man had listened in disbelief as the unmistakable sounds of passion floated down from his open bedroom window.

He raced inside, sick with jealousy, but paused before bursting through the bedroom door. Why? Because in spite of his righteous indignation, the newsman could not help but admire the sounds coming from behind the door.

Never before had he heard the object of his affection sound so satisfied. The steady pulsing, the rhythmic pounding, he had to admit whoever was in there certainly knew what they were doing. Quietly, the newsman eased the door open and beheld his own flesh and blood, sitting astride that which belonged to him. Eyes closed, hands working gracefully but firmly across that taut alabaster skin, bare feet dancing and twitching between those strong, slender legs. The news man saw just how talented his little brother was, rocking and rolling atop his darling.

On and on it went until the inevitable climax, at which point Alexander opened his eyes and saw his older brother standing silent in the doorway. It was an impossibly awkward moment, Alexander said nothing, nor did the beauty beneath him.

What could either say the evidence was incontrovertible. A betrayal, undeniable, the shame heavy in the air. Finally, the news man sighed and said the last thing his little brother expected to hear, seven words that would transform their relationship forever, launch a family business worth billions and doomed the interiors of hotel rooms around the world.

Let's trade, he said, straight up mine for yours. Alexander's eyes widened even at a time when free love was the coin of the realm. Did his big brother really believe they could simply swap just like that?

The answer appeared to be yes, because the news man didn't wait for Alexander to reply.

He simply nodded toward his former love, now glistening with the sweat from his younger brother's exertions and walked down the hall where Alexander's plaything lay strung out upon the bed.

The newsmen didn't hesitate. He grabbed the long neck and pressed himself against the curvaceous body, working his fingers instinctively up the spine. Tenderly but firmly. There was no resistance. The two became one the next morning, after an orgy of whacking and smacking and pounding and stroking, the news man was awakened by the morning sun.

He was late, understandably, and exhausted. The all night session had taken a toll. Racing out the door and off the porch, the screen door smacked shut behind him as the news man jumped onto his seat, a banana seat affixed to a five speed Schwinn. The canvas bag dangled from the spider handlebars overflowing with the Morning Edition pedaling furiously. The 11 year old paper boy hurled the morning news this way and that as his audience slowly awakened their coffee pots dripping lazily to life.

But of course, the real news on that day wasn't reported in the papers or seen on TV. The real news was the historic bargain between Edward and Alexander, the older brother's drum set for the younger brother's guitar. That was the trade that finally got the brothers hooked up with the instruments they were born to play way back in that Summer of Love, an extraordinary swap that made Alex one of the most successful drummers of all time. And Eddie one of the greatest guitar players to ever take the stage.

So began the family business that sold over 56 million albums, generated well over a billion dollars and destroyed. God only knows how many hotel rooms, thanks to a couple of brothers who decided to swap their childhood loves and form a band. They named after themselves a little band called Van Halen. Anyway, that's the way I heard it.