Picture this: a young woman in her early twenties decked out in leather pants and thigh-high boots and only a camisole covering her upper body. Her long hair is brushed away from one side of her face and held fast with a sparkly barrette. The other side of her face is partly covered by the long mane of intentionally chaotic hair. She’s heading into a popular danceteria in Minneapolis to watch one of her favorite bands play live. The Suburbs. The dance floor will be packed with hot, sweaty bodies, hers included, slam dancing to Baby Heartbeat and Music for the Boys.
That young woman was me. Those were days that will remain in my mind as some of the most fun days of my life. But things are different now. I’m older, and slam dancing is not only unfashionable, but also dangerous for someone who may or may not have the brittle bones of a woman in her fifties. However, being a woman in my fifties doesn’t keep me from loving the music of my youth. I wear jeans and a sweater instead of leather pants and thigh-high boots. I have a neat little bob hairdo instead of a longer, wilder mane. But in my head and heart I’m still that slam-dancing girl. I remember what it was like to walk into the dark, smoky venue that was First Avenue. I remember the adrenaline and the thumping bass that became one with my own heartbeat.
My little DiscMan and über fancy speakers set up in Craftland
I got home early from work today and headed straight for Craftland. While listening to the music I slam-danced to thirty plus years ago to I deplasticized and flattened 144 bottle caps for future drink charms and magnets.
The beginning of a beautiful craft.
Doing a different thing to the same music. Recalling old times while living my present life. All is good.
Remember yourself this weekend.
Auntie B's Wax 