The following is a post from my website Chrissy…In Her Sixties, which I am currently working on shutting down. The website you are now looking at, That Hobbit Lady, has been with me since November 2004 (nearly 20 years) and contains over 500 posts. In Her Sixties only goes back to 2017, with less than 40 posts. So, you see…in the interest of consolidating, I could either send 500+ posts from That Hobbit Lady to In Her Sixties, or 30+ posts from In Her Sixties to That Hobbit Lady. In addition to the math of that first option not making much sense, it also happens that the term “In Her Sixties” will only to apply to me for a few more years. But I will be a Hobbit Lady forever. So: no-brainer.
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October 19, 2017
Last time I talked about how knowing that God is in control connects me to who I was as a teenager, but I also mentioned another major aspect of my teenage self that is 180 degrees removed from my spiritual side. And here it is: boys. More specifically: Boy Bands.
First, a little background: as a teenager, I was 100% what was then called a “teenybopper,” but is nowadays known as a “Fan Girl.” I had my favorite actors, singers and “Boy Bands,” decades before the term was ever coined. Bobby Sherman really got the ball rolling, followed closely by the Monkees. It would be difficult to count how many celebrity crushes I’ve had through the decades. I tend to get obsessed for a certain period of time, then move on to something (or someone) else. Whereas my teens were dominated by Bobby Sherman, the Monkees, the Cowsills and John Denver, as an adult, my tastes have been quite different. (Mel Gibson, Hugh Jackman, Harrison Ford). More mature, you might say.
Sort of. Sometimes. Because, despite everything, somehow I always come back to the Boy Band.
Not in the same way, though. As a teenybopper, I dreamed of actually KNOWING my stars, somehow becoming involved with them, having a personal relationship. Now that I’m much older and happily married, I’m content to simply relax and enjoy the music, the personas, and everything I perceive they stand for.
And what do they stand for? Youth. Freedom. Rebellion against the status quo. Individuality. Creativity. I could go on, but you get the idea.
About five years ago, (when I’m well into my fifties), I accidentally ran into Fall Out Boy. I was on You Tube, listening to some other bands (I don’t even remember who), and suggestions on the right side of the screen led me from one band to another, and thus I discovered Fallout Boy. YEARS after everyone else. That’s me. Always late to the party. A Late Bloomer. But being a Late Bloomer has its advantages, because by the time I get there, there’s so much existing material, so may videos and songs, so many CD’s! And I don’t have to worry about whether or not this band is going to “make it,” because they already have, and there’s a ton of stuff for me to enjoy about them.
But it all started here:
This was the first video I saw of Fall Out Boy. From the early images of a bunch of boys jumping around with guitars, I was hooked. Then you move fully into this fanciful tale that involves a very unpretentious girl who dresses like I would (if I were much younger and much thinner), and I knew I had arrived in a world that was so much different than the world I live in.
Not because the love interest has antlers, but because these boys are musicians, and they live in a world where music and creativity are their lifestream, and they can dress however they want, and don’t have “real jobs” that require them waking up with an alarm clock. I know this is the exception and not the norm, and in so many ways it’s not the “real world,” but therein lies the attraction. It’s a pleasant fantasy about what it means to be young and talented and creative and full of hope for the future.
You see, at some point in life, you realize that the dreams you had where you were younger about what you planned to do with your life are no longer valid because you’re no longer young, and there’s not as much “future” ahead of you as there once was, those same opportunities are no longer as available. It’s a depressing realization when it first happens, but after a while you adjust to your new reality, and you’re willing to live the life that is set before you, which may not include being a famous musician, or best-selling author, or award-winning movie director. But you’re okay with that, because now you have a husband who loves you, and a cozy little house, a job that’s not awful, and a relative degree of good healthy and security. So, what more could you ask for?
Oh yeah, you could ask to every now and then dip your toes in the optimism of Youth by listening to music and watching videos by young people who remind you of who you once were, or who at least approximate the type of person you always hoped you might be.
And the fact that you still feel a connection to that person you always hoped you might be (even though you now know you never will be) assures you that on a very deep level, that young, free, optimistic, creative person is STILL IN THERE, still at the very core of who you are and who, really, you always will be. And any day that you can connect to the core of who you really are, that’s a good day.
So that’s my Fall Out Boy story. And after that, I became quite enamored of Panic! At the Disco, and then OK GO. So much music, and so many muses! And now, something new. Again, I’m not sure exactly how, but I’ve discovered the band We the Kings.
And if you know me, it’s very easy to figure out why I’m so attracted to them. I mean, besides all that creative, optimistic, artistic stuff I’ve already discussed. In addition to their music, which is sort of early 2000’s pop-rock, take a good look at these guys and you’ll notice a lot of…HAIR.
I’m obsessed with guys with hair, the more hair the better. I think this began way back when I was about seven years old and the Beatles first came on to the scene. Of course, the Beatles were the original “mop tops,” they made it cool for guys to have long hair. Their hairstyles became one of their defining characteristics, what set them apart from all the traditional, acceptable, mainstream bands that came before them. Back in the 1960’s, if you were a girl who liked the Beatles, you were sending a clear message to society that the status quo was not for you. You were not interested in hooking up with the clean-cut captain of the football team, or dating some fraternity brother. You were a REBEL who saw yourself traveling a less traditional path.
It’s kind of amazing that I can trace this all the way back to the Beatles, when I was only seven years old. It’s also amazing that this was probably the one time in my life when I was NOT a Late Bloomer! When it came to the Beatles, and Boy Bands, and teenybopperism, I was a maverick, ahead of the curve!
If you’ve been alive long enough, you remember the first time the Beatles appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show. A historic moment, I certainly remember! Glued to the TV, I promised myself that before I died, I would see the Beatles in concert someday. (I never did.) But at that point, I’d seen the footage of crazed fan-girls screaming and swooning as the Beatles performed on stage. And I wanted to participate in that hysteria.
I remember my mother wondering “How can they even hear the music, with all that screaming going on?” But I think Mom was missing the point. It wasn’t about the music. At least not primarily about the music. It was about the BOYS, and the hair, and the chance to step outside the mundane and connect to something bigger than you, something that seemed to transcend reality, something that represented the freedom of the spirit, and creativity, and optimism, and hope that we too might someday find and date and marry a CUTE boy with LONG HAIR.
I don’t know if at the tender age of seven I actually experienced those particular thoughts and dreams, but I feel certain they were there, on some subconscious level, deep in my heart.
Now, here’s the irony in all this. My first husband actually was a musician, a drummer for a local heavy metal rock band, and at times his hair was more long than short. But music and hair did not assure the happy marriage I dreamed of. Now I’m married to Russ, who last wore his hair over his ears as a senior in high school, and whose interest in music stops at about that same time: the 1970’s. But I couldn’t imagine being more happily married.
Which makes me wonder about my childhood and teenage fascination with long-haired musicians. Might this be one of those cases of “Be careful what you wish for”?
Or might it be that I’ve had it right all along: that Boy Bands are the stuff of fantasy, and should remain so, far off in the distance, the inspiration for a dream that is never going to come true. Maybe the reason why they seem to be part of some alternate reality is because they ARE part of an alternate reality. They are the embodiment of youth, and art, and creativity. Picasso said: “Art is a life that makes us realize the truth.” In some way, the world they inhabit is a lie. But that lie makes us realize that at the heart of everything, we are always more than we seem to be.
So, in the end I’m thinking, maybe it’s okay to live with one foot planted firmly in reality, and wiggle the toes of the other foot in that magical world where cute boys in quick-paced musical romps play out the silly shenanigans that make you feel good, and young and alive, just enough to remind you that your Inner Teen is never dead. She’s only sleeping. But she’ll always gladly wake up to gaze at the long-haired boys and listen to their music.
