A few weeks ago my husband and I attended a Fleetwood Mac concert. It was like lunchtime at my high school only 35 years later. Everyone was in different stages of decay.
In high school we drank beer. For some it was a varsity sport but we’re mature now. At the concert it was clear we still took drinking seriously but the concerns we had were different. None of us had to worry about being grounded; we were concerned about other, more serious things. Like carbs and calories.
In one corner, just like high school, were the Italian girls. Big hair, big personalities, big laughs, big…..well, you get the picture. Back then, these girls had hot boyfriends named Sal and/or Ronny and it was clear they STILL thought their Ronnys and Sals were hot. I can picture them smushed up against lockers in full kissing mode every chance they could get. Now? Most of us are just smushed into our pants but we still know how to have a good time.
Ronny and Sal and that group were present too. Although not so hot anymore there wasn’t much that had changed. They still loved their muscle t-shirts and their tans, and of course, they still liked to drink. I loved hanging around the Italian boys in high school…they could crack me up like nobody else on the planet, but my mother had other plans for me which didn’t include boys of any kind. “But what do you like about him?” she would ask? “His Chevelle,” I replied. Another 2 weeks locked in my room.
The jocks were at the concert too and still hanging together from what I could tell. They were popular in high school and liked cheerleaders. I was a cheerleader (don’t hold this against me, please) but I was usually locked away in my closet by my mother so nobody was searching for me to smush against a locker. From the looks of them they hadn’t run on a football field or otherwise in 30 years and I’m guessing they still liked their sneakers but not so much to work out. More to help with their aging knees which I’m guessing many of us could relate to.
The smart crowd was there. Huddled together now as doctors, tax accountants, lawyers and definitely dressed for success even at a concert. 35 years later, they looked good. This group did NOT look good in high school. Back then they wore glasses, had pens in their shirt pockets, took AP calculus, statistics, and carried really large backpacks. They had homework which they finished and it had paid off. They weren’t locking lips with anyone in high school. Absolutely revenge of the nerds.
As for me, I was an Italian girl with a double life and I floated between all groups. There was the life I wanted to lead and the life my mother insisted on. I would leave the house dressed like Marcia Brady but change in a friend’s car and emerge as Tina from Tony and Tina’s Wedding. Sometimes I would forget to change back into Marcia Brady. That was a problem. Now, thankfully, I can go and come back as the same person. My mother always said watching me raise a girl would be the best revenge. I hate when she’s right.
Not too many high-heels at this concert. Tight pants but only because we had gained weight and forget about short shirts, short skirts. No sir – none of that. As a matter of fact, based on the ages at this concert when I went to the ladies room I expected to see Depends in the dispenser.
And just like in high school, the different groups were eyeing each other up. The Ronnys and Sals were looking at me which didn’t sit well with their wives/girlfriends. We all hated the dates of the smart crowd because they looked much too good. “Well, she certainly paid for those perky things”, I heard on more than one occasion. The Italian girls were looking a little too lustily after the jocks which didn’t sit well with their Ronnys and Sals. Oh boy, here we go I thought, a fist fight in the balcony, just like in high school only then it took place near the flagpole.
And then Stevie Nicks came on stage. All 60 plus years of her with long blond hair, black boots, black fringe and that amazing voice and we all just stopped and listened….and sang….together, as the class of 1970 something. And when we all sang Landslide it didn’t matter one bit what you looked like now or 35 years ago.
“Well time makes you bolder
Children get older
I’m getting older too.”
She was amazing.
So are we.