Love Walks In

A very grainy photo circa 1983 I title "Feeling in a Funk"

(also just a few months before I got married at age 18)

Earlier this week I got into a bit of a "funk". It happens every once in a while. Comes upon me for no rhyme or reason. Most likely hormones (or the lack thereof), but then again with 2020 being what it is it could be about a thousand other reasons. Tears were right on tap. I tried to pin-point a specific reason for the flood of emotion. Nothing. The looming election for sure has me pretty much in a non-stop state of pissed-off-ness. But no....that wasn't it. That would make me more want to scream or yell, not weep. Is it that Summer-time and warm temps, long days and hiking season is ending? Sad yes, but not tears-worthy. The general feeling of disconnect when I'm out and about and I can't see the expressions on people's faces. I'm a person that's content to stand in a grocery line. I often strike up a conversation with the person in front or behind me and almost always have a little chat with the cashier. I walk around stores now and can't wait to get out. I can't hear very well anyway and when the cashier mumbles something to me behind his mask, I inevitably need him to repeat what he just said and so he does and often seems exasperated doing so. He's most likely been repeating himself all day. I smile apologizingly at him, but then realize he can't see my smile so I try to look him in the eyes extra....and thank him while taking my change from his hand.

That's it. It's the human interaction. I don't want to go on a virtual zoom vacation. I don't want to explore the National Parks virtually. I don't want to worship online. I want to smile at the cashier who might be having a rough day and have that three-minute visit that makes you feel connected. To worship with my friends and to give and receive a hug or just a hand-shake.

I want. To go. To a concert. In a stadium full of people and music that's too loud. Like a Van Halen Concert. Like the one I didn't go to with my little brother in 1983. Back then I wanted nothing to do with crowds and music that was too loud. Joel was, I think, fifteen years old. Van Halen was coming in concert to Phoenix. He asked my parents if he could to go. They said no. Just like that. "No". He begged. They said "Fine, if you take your sister's husband. He can be responsible for you and then we'll let you go." That was a gig that worked out for the both of them. All I know is what was reported to me when they got home late the night of the concert. The music was amazing. The smell of pot was thick. And some girl barfed right next to them and got some on their shoes. I never asked if they told me all of that to make me glad I didn't go, or what. But now, I totally wish I had gone with them. Barf and all. I remember not wanting to go with them because I was such an introvert. And I knew concerts were rife with pot and liquor. Things I didn't care to participate in or be around. At the time I was happy to decline the offer to go. "Oh that's okay, I'll stay home, take a bath and read." My idea of a perfect evening. (I'm sure there was chocolate involved)

If someone would have told me that thirty seven years later, our government would be telling us to stay home. That all concerts, and sporting events, and even church would be cancelled. That we would have to stay at least six feet apart from each other or else. That we would have to mask our faces in order to stand in line for a chance to purchase rationed toilet paper. Well...I would have gone to that concert. I would have begged to go to that concert.

I had to get out of my funk. I allowed myself a few token tears because it always feels like a bit of a relief. I thought of ways to re-direct my thoughts. Music. That's it! Of course. It's a guaranteed mood-changer. I searched through my play-lists and landed on the one that was sure to get the endorphins flowin'. "80's". Shuffle. "Love Walks In" - Van Halen. I smiled to myself and got transported for a little while back in time. Back to big hair. Puffy sleeves. Ripped sweat-shirts. Popped collars. But mostly amazing music. All of it. My air-pods and I went for a run and were swept away for a little while.

I wish I had those glasses and that hair-band still!

Put me in a big-hair band right now! (Just don't make me sing)

A little piece of my teenage-hood passed away today. Those amazing guitar riffs....the shaggy long hair....the cigarette constantly hanging from his lips. And that A impish grin. Just the best. Rest in peace Eddie Van Halen. Thanks for bringing such great music to my generation. You will live on in my play-list forever!