Clearly I’m having some sort of strange 80’s rewind that is affecting my life in several unforseen ways. My husband is quietly but inquisitively watching me from behind slightly arched eyebrows as I collect memorabilia from yesteryear, dust off my old LP’s and generally become way too enthused about defunct bands washed up actors and bad movies. I’d say the worst was the day I ran so fast to meet the UPS man delivering my autobiographies that I nearly concussed myself tripping over fourteen sets of discarded kid shoes. Now I’m wondering if there is something from this era I left unfinished (like my maturity?) so therefore deep down I have this unsatisfied need to return over and over to the same point in time to relive this era and fix whatever mistakes I made. Or perhaps it’s nothing more than the childish wish to go back to a time where music, movies and life in general packed so much punch?
Naturally, I imagine my enthusiasm will wane and I’ll find something more important to do with my time (my husband is hoping it’s laundry, cooking and cleaning) but what is it about these little raw moments from the past that give rise to such excitement? I’m a firm believer that there is something very revealing about what we connect to, either in the past or present, that shapes our lives in a strange way. Although seemingly frivolous one would do well to take a hard look at what made or makes us tick and why that spark of childlike excitement lights us up when we come in contact with these things marching down the path of life. Things that have passed us by sometimes still have the ability to get us going again. I may have ripped down the Police posters that adorned my bedroom walls and shelved the VHS tapes of blurry films but somewhere in a hollowed out pit in the back of my grey matter is that blindingly shiny slice of time where we jumped up and down at the park blasting a cassette tape of Regatta de Blanc out of the speakers of our massive gun-metal grey radio and tried to get our covergirl purple eyeshadow just right. I have a vivid memory of a summer night when I had just acquired the legal ability to drive ,of pulling up in front of the New City, New York Bradlees to gather party materials for later in the evening with “It’s Alright for You” blasting from the speakers.
Later on we would eat junk food, watch The Terminator and Sixteen Candles back to back and struggle valiantly with the Rubik’s Cube. God, those were the days.