Earlier in the week I turned the house upside down looking for my old concert stubs. I was updating my facebook profile with all the concerts I attended and for some reason it became a life or death situation for me to find those stubs. Honestly, I don't know what gets hold of me sometimes.
Refusing to give up, I finally found them late that night, buried deep in the cedar chest in one of those photo albums with the clear, sticky pages that had clearly lost its stickiness. The concert tickets fell out when I picked the book up and at that moment, I knew what a lottery winner must feel like. I was so excited I could hardly sleep, turning on my bedside lamp every few minutes to gaze at the tickets in an effort to remember who I went with, the songs, musicians, etc. Sadly, there's not much I remember clearly.
Another thing I stumbled on was my cherished box of letters from junior high and high school. I kept every single love letter, note passed in class, and card. There is something about written words from someone I care about that I can't bear to part with. If anyone writes anything to me, I will treasure it for the rest of my life. Here is a letter from my first serious boyfriend that I thought amusing; I was 14 and he was 15.
'Happy Birthday,' I hope you like what I got you. I know how you feel about not being able to go to the concert with me. That's alright. They'll have plenty more after this one and you'll probably be able to go to at least one. Don't bug your mother anymore about it because I don't want you to get in trouble. I think my mother could bring us to see Tommy this Saturday night if you can go. Are you going to spend a night at Riena's house Friday night_______. The races aren't until a week from this Saturday. My farther talked to your mother yesterday and told her I might be quiet at first but after awhile you'll never know what happens. She told my farther that she didn't mind me coming over just as long if it's after 5:00. Sorry about this messy letter. I can't spell too good.
PS. I hope you have a real nice birthday.
Well, I wore my mother down to the nubs and attended that concert. It was a hard fought battle, but well worth it: Robin Trower, 1975 - the Bridge of Sighs Tour. We were on the floor, close to the stage, and I remember feeling overwhelmed, yet excited by all the people and pot smoke. I'm sure my mom lit candles and clutched her rosary the entire time. I think the only reason she let me go was because she worked with Randy's "farther" so she knew that he was a good Catholic boy (ha!) and came from a good family. Unfortunately, I grew tired of him after only a few months. I just never liked boys that were too clingy and possessive. And the boys that weren't - those were the ones I wanted! Go figure.