Phileas Fogg and Black Leather Pants

4.5" gourd hot air balloon

I’m not sure how this happened, but whereas I was once as anxious as anyone to pick up Eric Clapton's latest in the record store, most of my musical tastes stopped developing sometime in the ‘80’s, shortly after MTV began.  I loved it; I owned my first VCR from Monkey Ward’s and taped hours of spectacles unlike anything I’d seen:  Cindi Lauper, that fellow with the hairstyle shaped like a beak…Flock of Something…and Boy George, who made Bowie look tame.

12" gourd balloon

I bought a pair of black leather pants because of Pat Benatar, returning the $100-plus extravagance the following day with a lame excuse.  I’d have rationalized the splurge except I looked nothing at all in mine like she looked in hers.  5’3” at most, I was still battling thunder thighs at the time, before gravity took over.

But for that one evening I was a rock star, creaking and stretching along with Pat to a Little Too Late.  The lesson learned:

EVERYONE needs to own a pair of leather pants just one day in their life.  You just don't feel like your old self.

La Parguera, PR

I’m excited about attending an upcoming rock concert, especially because it’s free to the public.  On my latest road trek I landed in a cute town in Central Oregon I’d never before visited.  BC’s thrilled with my choice; finally, there’s an enormous field just outside the RV park, great for Frisbee throwing, once we get past the minefield of gopher holes.  At least I hope they’re gopher holes; I just pray they don’t house snakes, and that’s the reason I’m the only person I’ve seen in that half of the field.

Naaah…can’t be, ‘cause that’s where the hot air balloons will be taking off during next weekend’s festival.  In New Mexico, in the ‘80’s, I saw an ad and gave it a go.  It was surreal and loads of fun pretending to be Phileas Fogg; even riding in the pickup with the ground crew, up dirt roads and across fields, was exciting.  The ‘champagne toast’ amounted to being doused with a bottle of bubbly at the end of the ceremony welcoming us to the world of ballooning.  Luckily the cops in the next booth at the diner having breakfast weren’t downwind.  Or else they were used to the stench of adventurous tourists at 8am.

Table Rock, OR

I am so glad I took advantage of all kinds of thrills when I was younger and flush with cash because now, when I can’t go anywhere or do anything, I don’t have the aching feeling that I’ve missed out on life.  I am sorry I didn’t get to try that Zip-line thing down in Cave Junction last month, but hope springs eternal and I’ve got plenty of time.  In the meantime, I’ll amuse myself by re-living these golden oldies in my mind, in print, and with gourds.

So STYX will be performing in a week.  If I still had those leather pants, I’d be trying to squeeze into them just as some of the female rockers seem to be doing these days.  OK, not in this heat.  Revival tours are standard Summer faire, but some former performers, male and female, should not be seen in public unless they’re doing charitable work, such as Jon Bon Jovi's cool soul kitchen,  or Farm Aid, et al.   I’m sorry…some of the performances on Yahoo just look scary.  Alice Cooper’s doing the right thing by DJ’ing on the radio; even he commented on friend Steven Tyler, who we all can’t help but love, in his floppy hat, beginning to resemble his favorite Auntie.

Hot air balloon production line

I prefer the fellows who have aged gracefully, like Justin Hayward and Michael McDonald, and of course James Taylor.  Emmylou Harris always looks terrific, and in my opinion, female Country Western singers never seem to change; you expect the crinoline.  Or maybe it’s because they’re so friendly and joking and drawing everyone in (Dolly Parton or Reba McEntire, whom I also saw in concert with classic M-m-m-Mel Tillis), rather than tossing instruments and screaming incantations most of us never understood the first time around (too drunk, too stoned, or too illiterate).  Then there are those who belong in their own category, like Joe Cocker.

Not having gone to a concert in decades, I hope that if STYX has giant screens as a backdrop, they use at least one to play their early concerts, to remind us of how we looked (and felt) back then.  And for those of us who have facial recognitions difficulties.  Accused of that, I just now greet everyone as though we’ve already met.

P.S.  I love gravelly voices like Joe C.