Ordinary World?

Warning: this is an extremely long entry. I just couldn't find a way of condensing it without omitting something I wished to express. I knew that when I arrived at the Booth Amphitheatre Wednesday evening for the Duran Duran concert that I must devote a blog entry to this event and what it meant to me. So, here goes....

Perhaps I should provide a bit of background information for some of you. I am, as most of my friends and family know, an 80's geek. I use the term "geek" because I often get mocked in good fun by folks who know of my undying love and devotion to this totally awesome decade. A decade known for its outrageous fashion statements, its new wave of music and one-hit wonders, advancement in technology, and a drawing of the iron curtain just in time before the more shallow 90's began.

The dawn of the 80's arrived as I was finishing my year of Kindergarten and would soon begin First Grade. While I was often more preoccupied with Barbies and coloring books, I was destined to become a devotee to the 80's and in particular, its music. I was already way ahead of most kids my age since I could sing and dance to Leo Sayer, Donna Summer, and Styx. This was courtesy of my two older brothers who would religiously play their albums on the family's living room stereo. But when 1980 arrived, both the world and I were in for an experience.

If I hadn't had two older brothers I don't know if I'd be the 80's guru that I am today. I maybe wouldn't even have been the cool kid that I so often heard I was while standing in the water fountain line after recess. Any female who is a little sister and has the least bit of brains will know that she must believe everything her older brothers say. She must mimic everything they do including choices in music, movies, and television. I had brains. I was smart. So in 1980 I followed my brothers' lead and became a fan of The Knack. Of Blondie. I learned how to put the needle on the record. Yes sirree, I did. I was one cool kid.

My coolness only continued to grow as my brother Peter received from Santa Claus his own "ghetto blaster" from which he would make mix tapes of all the coolest music. I knew that Men At Work wasn't just a construction term. The Go-Go's were the most totally rad females who represented true girl power. Michael Jackson was the epitome of cool and Cindi Lauper was who I wanted to invite to my birthday party sleepover--if I'd had one. Madonna's sense of fashion was supreme and although I didn't know what the meaning was behind the lyrics of her song "Like A Virgin," I did learn from Ann Dyer on a foggy morning bus ride to school that a virgin was someone who hadn't had sex. But what exactly was sex?

My love and devotion to the 80's was only solidified--or intensified, rather--by the summers of 1983 and 1984 when we lived in Murfreesboro, TN while my dad attended graduate school. It was a far different world than the small Appalachian town we normally called home. Murfreesboro had a Kroger and a Shoney's! Peter brought his ghetto blaster with him and I brought my roller skates and Nancy Drew books. We had just purchased a 19-inch color TV that was fancy-schmancy and in Murfreesboro the TV was able to pick up more than just 3 channels! My brother began watching this show on Friday nights that showed all the latest music videos. Some people were saying that Thriller was too scary for children to watch but obviously they didn't know that there were a few children out there who were way cooler and more mature than their peers and could watch it, unscathed.

Other than roller skating and riding my bike through the university's faculty housing apartment complex, our days were filled with garage sales, trips to Kroger for frozen Popsicles, and one of my favorite possessions: a Panama Jack t-shirt that we bought at a flea market in a shopping center parking lot. I also bought my first pairs of jellies, (including a pair of fluorescent pink ones), and I can still hear "Electric Avenue" blaring from our 1975 Chevrolet Impala wagon's radio speakers. Ah, those were great days....

I could go on and on but at this point I'll move forward. It must have been Christmas of 1984 or 1985, I think?. We were visiting relatives in North Carolina. We always stayed at my grandmother's house but if we were lucky enough to make the trek over to my cousins Emily and Everett's house, it was the highlight event of the trip. They had a basement! And an Atari! Emily, who was four years my senior, was the coolest girl I knew. She had short hair and wore big earrings and always turned up her shirt collars. She also owned at least one pair of leg warmers. She had tons of mix tapes and albums and even had a Dukes of Hazard poster on her door that was identical to mine. I remember sitting on her bedroom floor, hanging on her every word, and discussing all that was great about the Go-Go's and that other group which was her favorite: Duran Duran. I took in the visual array of posters from Tiger Beat and 16 magazines which were taped to her walls and closet doors. Emily explained that Simon LeBon was the ultra coolest of cool and the hottest rocker alive.

It seemed that by the the time 1989 arrived and was gone and a new decade had dawned, all my musical heroes had vanished into oblivion. Aside from groups like Johnny Hates Jazz or Nina, even those artists who had ruled the radio airwaves were either fading away or had disappeared altogether. The 80's were a thing of the past that no one who was cool would talk about. Now it was all about models-turned-singers, (Hello! Can you say Expose?) lip-syncing, and boy bands. So I took down my posters of Michael Jackson, Paul Young, and Michael J. Fox.

My siblings had all grown up and moved out of the house. Their absence left a huge void in my life. While I continued to be a follower of my brother Peter's musical tastes that he had found on the college scene I also began to stand on my own feet. I chose to join the legion of fans of Paula Abdul, New Kids On The Block and Milli Vanilli, all the while he would preach the reasons that these so-called artists were a disgrace to the music industry. Hey, maybe they weren't great when compared to The Police or Whitney Houston, but I was learning to become my own person. I was growing up. Yet I was also becoming increasing nostalgic and maudlin for the days of the moonwalk and the Rubix Cube, when we were just dancing on the ceiling.

The longing only grew as I passed from teenager to young adult. Bit by bit, feelings of security and sure-footedness were eroding away as I faced the harsh realities of adulthood. With each new obstacle, difficult decision, and Friday nights spent alone, I longed all the more for those days of past. Those days when someone else did my laundry, cooked my meals, and would fix my boo-boo's. The days when summer vacation actually meant a vacation. A vacation spent roller skating, twirling my baton in the front yard, and playing the occasional game of Mrs. Pac-Man at the Little Store's arcade. A time when the toughest decision that I might face upon waking was whether to eat Crunch Berries or Peanut Butter Crunch for breakfast.

Two years ago I went to see Pat Benetar and it was as if I had taken a step back in time. It was, if I may say, "awesome!" Yet this week when I went to see Duran Duran I not only had a flood of memories come back to me but I also realized that things really are different now and that I'm not the young kid I used to be:

• Instead of listening to Duran Duran's music on their tape which I had paid $8, I plugged in my Ipod and shuffled their songs along with all my 80's songs which I have nicely organized into six digital 80's music "albums."
• As I walked into the amphitheater, I overhead the conversation of another concert goer. Instead of it being some kid talking about how unfair his parents' curfew rules were, he was discussing the refinancing of his mortgage. Huh?
• The cigarette lighter at concerts is now so passe. Now for the ballads turns his/her cell phone on and holds it up, illuminating the crowd..... Cell phones? Really? Yes, really.

Ha! Here's something that hadn't changed, though. Guess who was there at the concert with my husband and me? My cousin, Emily. She's turned down her collars and let her hair grow long but after all these years she is still as devoted as ever to Simon and the band. As the night wore on I experienced a vast array emotions. With every one of Duran Duran's classic songs that they performed so flawlessly I was taken back in time. I smiled and cried at the same time. Yeah, you heard me. I cried. I cried not just because I was seeing friggin' Duran Duran in person for the first time but because of all the memories that were flooding into my conscious. I reflected on what a beautiful time the 80's were. They were, I feel, the best years of my youth. A time of innocence and gaiety. A time when family bonds were tight and not strained. When relatives seemed more like just that--relatives--and less like strangers. When walking around barefoot and braless (Who has cleavage at age 8?) was acceptable. A time when we weren't afraid to be ourselves.

I miss those days. I can't go back. Life will never be as it was then. Yeah, and that's a good thing if you had a mullet or wore a white sports jacket inspired by Miami Vice. But for me, as much as I love my new family and the life that I have, I continue to long for the good ole days. I guess there's not that much that separates me from the pony-tailed hippie in his VW van, is there?

Obviously I've gone on too long but there's just so much I wanted to say. So for anyone who has made it thus far, congratulations. The 80's were for the most part about fun. We all just wanted Wang Chung tonight, right? But of course, I, the sentimental one, has managed to make the end of this blog a bit too serious and introspective. Most certainly this is true because I'm going to close with a verse from one of Duran Duran's more sobering songs. As the concert ended with me smiling and shouting the words to "Rio," I think my emotions hit their crux when during the concert they performed this song. It happens to be one of my favorites of theirs--which, ironically, wasn't released until the 90's. LeBon wrote it after losing a friend in a car accident. I think it beautifully sums up my feelings for the decade and those things that I wish could again be as they once were.

What has happened to it all?
Crazy some are saying?

Where is the life that I recognize?

Gone Away

But I won't cry for yesterday

There's an ordinary world

Somehow I have to find

And as I learn to find my way

To the ordinary world

I will learn to survive

Passion or coincidence

Once prompted you to say, "Pride will tear us both apart"

Well now pride's gone out the window

Cross the rooftops

Run Away

Left me in the vacuum of my heart

But I won't cry for yesterday
There's an ordinary world
Somehow I have to find