AndyK
24 Apr 2007, 16:53
Taken from http://www.nugget.ca/webapp/sitepages/content.asp?contentid=497593&catname=Editorial&classif=Editorials
It's been a long time since I've been to a rock concert, and even longer since I actually wanted to go to one.
Rock concerts are a young person's passion and I'm getting too old for that kind of thing. I can't take the crowds or the noise anymore, and I don't like being out of the house after dark.
But last Tuesday, when it was announced that Meat Loaf is headlining this year's Heritage Festival, 30 years fell off my face and out of my soul.
My arthritis cleared up, my varicose veins went away and I had the first hot flush I've had since the hot flashes began. I rooted through dusty boxes in the storage room for the outfit I was wearing the first time I heard Bat Out Of Hell, and started a diet so I can actually wear it in four months.
I haven't been this excited since Hubby asked me to marry him
The reason for this emotional meltdown is a secret I've been keeping for three decades.
Since 1977, Meat Loaf has been my Frank Sinatra, my Elvis, my Beatles. If you were appalled by the behaviour of the bobby socksers and mods during those performances, believe me, you ain't seen nothin' yet.
Because on Saturday, Aug. 4, my rock 'n' roll dreams will come true. That night I will, for a couple of hours, abandon all decorum and conduct myself in a most un-ladylike manner. I will not sit still. I will not calm down. I will not give a damn about my lack of etiquette.
I will mouth every word to every song, because I really do remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday. I will dance like there's no one watching. Muscles I forgot I had will be stretched further than the truth at the RCMP hearings.
Hubby has graciously forgiven me in advance for my lack of emotional control. After a nice long talk, he now understands that although he will cease to appear in my peripheral vision for a brief period that night, he shouldn't take it personally. I reminded him that I would disappear from his memory if we ever had dinner with Nigella Lawson. So, having sorted out any potential problems on the home front, I must now beg the future forgiveness of the people of this city who will also be affected by my uncharacteristic behaviour.
1. My parents who really did raise me better than my actions will indicate.
2. Anyone who is creeped out by a middle-aged woman reliving her youth in front of 20,000 people.
3. Anyone unfortunate enough to sit behind me, who may have their view obscured by my big, bobbing head.
4. Anyone unfortunate enough to sit in front of me, who will end up on the Islands if they obscure MY view.
I'm no fairweather fan, so as far as I'm concerned, the festival is already weather-proofed. I don't care if it rains. I don't care if it rains frogs.
I have given my friends and loved ones permission that night to pretend we've never met. I've warned the brave ones who may wish to acknowledge my presence that I won't be ignoring them on purpose. On Saturday, Aug. 4, no matter how many faithful fans gather at the waterfront, it's only going to be Meat Loaf and me.
And I intend to make the most of our one night together!
Patty Fedeli is a career housewife with an overactive imagination. Her humour column appears Monday in The Nugget
It's been a long time since I've been to a rock concert, and even longer since I actually wanted to go to one.
Rock concerts are a young person's passion and I'm getting too old for that kind of thing. I can't take the crowds or the noise anymore, and I don't like being out of the house after dark.
But last Tuesday, when it was announced that Meat Loaf is headlining this year's Heritage Festival, 30 years fell off my face and out of my soul.
My arthritis cleared up, my varicose veins went away and I had the first hot flush I've had since the hot flashes began. I rooted through dusty boxes in the storage room for the outfit I was wearing the first time I heard Bat Out Of Hell, and started a diet so I can actually wear it in four months.
I haven't been this excited since Hubby asked me to marry him
The reason for this emotional meltdown is a secret I've been keeping for three decades.
Since 1977, Meat Loaf has been my Frank Sinatra, my Elvis, my Beatles. If you were appalled by the behaviour of the bobby socksers and mods during those performances, believe me, you ain't seen nothin' yet.
Because on Saturday, Aug. 4, my rock 'n' roll dreams will come true. That night I will, for a couple of hours, abandon all decorum and conduct myself in a most un-ladylike manner. I will not sit still. I will not calm down. I will not give a damn about my lack of etiquette.
I will mouth every word to every song, because I really do remember every little thing as if it happened only yesterday. I will dance like there's no one watching. Muscles I forgot I had will be stretched further than the truth at the RCMP hearings.
Hubby has graciously forgiven me in advance for my lack of emotional control. After a nice long talk, he now understands that although he will cease to appear in my peripheral vision for a brief period that night, he shouldn't take it personally. I reminded him that I would disappear from his memory if we ever had dinner with Nigella Lawson. So, having sorted out any potential problems on the home front, I must now beg the future forgiveness of the people of this city who will also be affected by my uncharacteristic behaviour.
1. My parents who really did raise me better than my actions will indicate.
2. Anyone who is creeped out by a middle-aged woman reliving her youth in front of 20,000 people.
3. Anyone unfortunate enough to sit behind me, who may have their view obscured by my big, bobbing head.
4. Anyone unfortunate enough to sit in front of me, who will end up on the Islands if they obscure MY view.
I'm no fairweather fan, so as far as I'm concerned, the festival is already weather-proofed. I don't care if it rains. I don't care if it rains frogs.
I have given my friends and loved ones permission that night to pretend we've never met. I've warned the brave ones who may wish to acknowledge my presence that I won't be ignoring them on purpose. On Saturday, Aug. 4, no matter how many faithful fans gather at the waterfront, it's only going to be Meat Loaf and me.
And I intend to make the most of our one night together!
Patty Fedeli is a career housewife with an overactive imagination. Her humour column appears Monday in The Nugget