Tuesday, November 5, 2013
For the moment nostalgia finds the quiet corners of my mind.I reminisce of long ago in a song, 'Don't know what you got till its gone,' from an old eighties band called, Cinderella.
While I measure the music with memories I find myself in that era instantly, drinking it all in through a lipstick-stained-glass-all-cool-like-and, ah....innocent, until proven guilty, through my rose-colored-tinted-glasses.
My mind races from one weekend to another, ripping up the dance floors from Vancouver to Point Roberts with friends and, crazy excited over featured bands such as, the Headpins, Trooper, Prism, Lee Arron, Loverboy, and Nazareth... not to mention other bands that frequented Vancouver (VanHalen).
This was the place to be in the eighties if not for the kick ass music coming from LA. The amount of night clubs stretched from Vancouver through all our municipalities were numerous.Not a weekend would go by without hitting any one of them with a treasure drove of friend's dressed to the nines in, short skirts and dresses, balancing on spiked heels with fishnet stockings and, maybe a short leather jacket-carrying a purse with no cell phone but a little black pocket book of phone numbers and, a small pad of paper with poems of love and heart ache scribbled through each page like there wouldn't be a.....oh, a tomorrow.
And yet there was, so many tomorrows left.
I met him in this large nightclub downtown Vancouver called the 'Metro.' He called me babe.Eventually we fell in love and called each other babe.
He had better hair than I did. All guys had better hair then us girl's. His was golden blonde and curled down past his collar. Once driving in the passenger seat of his camero two guy's in another car honked at us.I never laughed so hard. "That's what you get for having better hair than a girl!" I said. He smiled and gave the two guy's the middle finger out the window.
Every Wednesday was a ladies night somewhere. My friend Lee and I would meet up at the gym after work and then head out to the bar (making no sense what-so-eva).
Ladies nights were free to the ladies and drinks were cheap, bringing in the men later to pay full price.
Eventually the thrill of a ladies night and male strippers dancing through the smoke of dry ice to Bon Jovi with screaming girl's in the bushels-set around the dance floor like prey waiting for their next meal became, hm, annoyingly? boring. Seems Lee and I were growing up.However, we wouldn't realize this just yet.
Franks Place in Richmond. This was a night club where Lee and I would see all our old Star Dust roller skating friend's. And this was the place that some of those popular boys from the old Star Dust roller rink first noticed me, at least with a new eye in my new legal age of drinking (coughs)....
Seems for the first time in my life I was popular.Well, so it seemed for a blink of time.
I was much more mature than that young teen roller skating around the rink under the disco ball. I was also confident enough to go to the bathroom without an entourage, and walk through the night club alone to find friends when they would all scatter to the dance floor for the next ACDC song.
"Ah...that was the times...."
And so, I'm not your fool, from Cinderella plays through the speakers at the club and all of us girl's look to one another and start to sway solemnly on our bar stools.Countless guy's walk past us asking for a dance. Trish gets off her stool and walks to the dance floor with an over bulked up Italian. The other girl's wander off to the bathroom and I sit swaying to, nobodys fool-living inside my head and bleeding heart of all breaks in my heart.Rewriting the song in the absence of a man with golden blonde hair that was better than mine.Wondering how I'd ever get over knowing his-child.Fooling myself with walking away.Fooling myself in staying away.
Edge of a broken heart,from the band Queensryche pours over the dance floor now, as couples slow dance.The DJ announces this being the last song of the night.This, the best known indication that the 'ugly lights' will be coming on, which, many who are sober leave promptly and the buzzed and drunk one's linger merrily without care.We all left promptly and sober, though I wished the latter in hindsight.
The next day on the radio the band Cheat Trick plays the song, Flame,and I crumple to tears.
For every poem and song written across a sheet of paper, school binder, jean jacket, hand and arm, throughout all those precious years up to stilling the urge to write no more, a heart bled.And the perfect song for the the moment (ironically) played on the radio to the beat of your heart.
Its safe to say in all of the eighties adventures throughout our time much has changed, and, well, not.
I lost the rocked out big hair and certain high rise jeans I used a coat hanger to zip up.I lost my innocence but never made a fool-again. I gladly watched the mu-lock disappear and witnessed short hair on men.
I said good bye to platonic guy friends, taking up serious relationships.
And seven years later I married the golden-blonde-haired-guy who called me babe.
I pull out from my jeep visor an old cd one of my daughter's made for me one summer.(We played that cd all summer that year). I place the cd in the player and turned it up.The first song , photograph, from Def Leppard.
My daughter's have since grown.One has left home early and produced a mirror image of herself, to my full heart. And my other daughter is a teen with wings who flutters from pillar or post and sometimes rocks it out to Def leppard and Bon Jovi.Also to my hearts content.
I may have lost somethings from the past but I kept a few. I never lost my love for music that came out from the eighties. Neither have I forgotten where I was and who I was with when I first heard a song.
I carry every image, feeling, and memory as if it all happened yesterday.
I still have all those girlfriends from back then, only seeing them died off a little with the end of Star Dust's-end to skate reunions. I see Lee here and there because she runs a roller derby and frequents the valley here. She's asked me on occasion to go out to a ladies night with her. I'd reply with a laugh.Its just not the same.
In the end and down many roads there has been trials and tributes. I can't say anything was perfect then nor now, only that we choose things that draw us a little comfort, like the drawing of home brings us.
I can't say I may of went down any other road, least divert from this one.I only wish to go back every now and again and imagine how it was, when, well you know, when time went a little slower and you couldn't wait to grow up. And when all these bands were cool.You were cool.
I can't end this post without this one last visual.Because I'm an eighties girl.
The second song in the cd player is about to play. I jack up the base a little, zip down my short leather jacket and push down the button on the window. Any minute I'll be back in the eighties. Any minute I'll find a long stretch of the highway. And any minute I'll be singing to my favourite eighties song,
"pour some sugar on me." Def Leppard.
I stand over you and wonder
how beautiful you must have been
before your fall
crash to earth
with a sorrow of
the crying birds
fought for you
under the bluest of skies
with the deepest of
along the rushing river
through the mountains with
the pain of knowing
it wouldn't last
before you'd turn
with your last breath
chewed away slowly from the
forest so deep
of yesterday with
a slow progression of time
a little too late
beetled away at the
lush green of your
with no mercy
as far as the eye can see
with every sunrise and set
under the stars
upon an early morning
with a sky of clouds of moisture
crying down with a crash
angry thunder upon the distance
over your rutted grave
a miracle in the end
spreading beneath the ground
an almighty gasp of life
reaching up through the dirt
in a colorless forest
a green so bright
a root so tight
a grandmother's voice
“pine away dear little one