Today it's time to give credit where credit is due. Today it's time to give a shout out to my family. At different points in my life they have assisted me, encouraged me and just plain put up with me and my love of music. Today it's time I acknowledge that.
My obsession with music started early. I always remember my mom playing records when I was younger, and we would dance around the house to Tom Jones, Donna Summer and Chicago. We took car trips pretty frequently and we never left the house without a bag full of 8 tracks and, later, cassettes, for the road. We would sing along and to this day, I don't feel comfortable driving unless the radio is on.
My mom bought me my first album, which, I'm embarrassed to say, was Air Supply "Lost In Love." For my birthday and holidays I would give her a list of records and tapes I wanted, and she would pick a few out for me. She allowed me to color my hair when I turned sixteen, and was the one who encouraged me to cut it short and go platinum blonde. Unfortunately, Madonna had the same idea as my mom, and people mistakenly thought I was trying to emulate her, when really I was copyin Nick Rhodes from Duran Duran. When my best friend and I wanted to start taking the train into Manhattan by ourselves in order to go to Tower Records and other stores in Greenwich Village, our moms came with us the first time to make sure we knew where we were going and would be relatively safe. She drove my friends and I into Manhattan during Fleet Week to go see Robert Palmer at Radio City Music Hall and didn't freak out when we started yelling to sailors out the window on the way home. She would keep my dad from barricading me in my room over some of my "out there" wardrobe choices by promising him it was just a phase, whether she believed that or not. One night my mom brought a business colleague home to have dinner with us. It just happened to be the same night I was attending a Poison/David Lee Roth concert. Her colleague was a bit shocked when I appeared at the table in my spandex under ripped jeans, T-shirt, two different color Converse high tops and leather jacket, with hair and makeup done. My mom just rolled with it, like it was any other night. She's cool like that. So, thanks, Mom. Love you.
My dad gets the award for going the distance for me, literally. He drove me and three of my friends to the Meadowlands Arena in New Jersey from our house on Long Island, a distance of about 30 miles including tolls and bridges, on a school night. Why? Because we wanted to see Howard Jones in concert and that venue was the only one he was performing at that was even remotely close to us. He had zero interest in the show, so while we were inside, dancing and singing along, he sat in the car and waited for us. Think about that for a minute. At the least, he sat in the car in the Meadowlands parking lot for three hours while his daughter and her friends had a grand old time. If that doesn't make him eligible for Dad of the Millenium, I don't know what would. So, thanks, Dad. Love you.
My sister took me to my first concert, Loverboy and Zebra, in November 1983. She spent almost the entire show trying to keep me from leaning way over the railing of our corner second tier section in order to get a better view of the stage. She took the train with me and went to see Bryan Adams at Madison Square Garden on the Reckless tour when he was huge even though she was sick as a dog. I was still too young to go alone, and heaven forbid I miss the show! But the best thing she ever did was wait on line to get Duran Duran tickets for me at the height of their popularity in 1984. She went out on line in the early morning hours, like 3 a.m. In the dark. In the cold. In March. But she got the tickets and took me and a friend to the show. So, thanks, sweetie. I owe you big time.
And finally, I need to give a shout out to the parents of my two best girlfriends, girls I've been friends with since the 4th and 9th grades. Their moms in particular have assisted in our pursuit of all things musical and gave us a lot of freedom to be ourselves. I's mom used to drop us off and pick us up at concerts before we could drive. She put up with music screaming out of her daughter's bedroom at all hours. She lost her basement for several years to our MTV filled hangouts. And she came to Manhattan with I, my mom and me that day to make sure we could do it ourselves. As I recall, we caught her and my mom looking at, shall we say, marital aides, and I just know it was her idea. E's mom took us to our first bar, not to drink, of course, but to dance. She was friendly with a guy in a band called The Works and she would bring a group of us to whereever they were playing. It was my first experience with the local music scene and the fact that most venues would admit underage teens for an additional $2 on top of the cover charge. Both of them, then and now, are very cool ladies who mean a lot to me.
The statute of limitations on thank yous never runs out. I may or may not have said it at the time of the event but I have always known how lucky I am to have had such incredible support behind me as I explored my passion. It's the way I aspire to be with my own children. Thankfully I've got some great examples to follow.
