Once upon a time, there was this idiot teenager. I know, idiot teenager is redundant. Teenager=lack of any good sense whatsoever
It's Monday again, and my buddy Travis over at I like to Fish instituted this Memoir Monday thing last week. It went over pretty well, so I am sticking with it for a bit.
Yesterday, the hubs and I were downloading some music, the legal way, via iTunes. I would kill to have all the cds I have purchased over the years. I have lost so many of them, through moving, or playing them too many times in the car, before the invention of those MP3 players and iPods and such. I have probably spent enough on music to put at least two of our four children through college. But, then what else do teenagers go to work for? I went so I could buy music, and clothes. But, I digress, and those are topics for another day.
We are a music lovin' family. At any given time when the family is going down the road, you can count on all of us singing some 80s mega hit. My kids have all the words to Mr. Roboto, Don't Stop Believing, Bohemian Rhapsody and many others down pat. It is probably quite a spectacle to witness for on-lookers. I often notice that we get a lot of "looks" from vehicles when we are stopped at traffic lights. However, we laugh and continue on in our merriment. Anyshizzle, we (the hubs and I) have been missing quite a few of our old favorites. When we venture out on our own, we listen to the 80s and 90s stations on the Sirius Satellite station. It came free for a year with my Jeep! Go me! Every time we are listening one of us will say "I need that song" or "Ooo, that's a good one, I need to download that one!"
This evening when we picked up necessities at the local Wal-Mart, I added an iTunes card. There were several "must-have-that's" on the list. And varied they were: The Police, U2, Ronnie Milsap, Alabama, Bauhaus, Love and Rockets, Metallica, Sheryl Crow, 10,000 Maniacs, Edie Brickell, The Verve Pipe, Tonic, Jefferson Airplane, Foreigner, Our Lady Peace, Journey, Sarah McLachlan and last but certainly not least, Depeche Mode. I bought, for the probably millionth time, the album I know inside and out, up and down, backwards and forwards.
I remember this album with memories that are both dear and near to my heart, and other memories that, certainly are not some of my proudest moments. This album came out and became popular the year I graduated from high school. I was a rebellious jackass at 17, and 18, and 19, and well....hell, I still am sometimes. I moved out of my parents house about three weeks after I turned 18. Again, not my proudest moment. I wanted to be wild, and free, and stay out as late as I deemed appropriate. I moved in with some friends. Daemien, Pierre and Randy. Three guys. Again, not my proudest moment. Daemien was one of my best friends, as it turns out, now my brother-in-law. Randy, first husband. Pierre, is still one of our nearest and dearest friends. He's family as far as we are concerned.
PARENTAL ADVISORY: IF YOU CONTINUE PAST THIS POINT AND YOU KNOW ME PERSONALLY, YOU MAY NEVER LOOK AT ME THE SAME. STOP READING NOW! I TOLD YOU SO, IF YOU ARE STILL READING, YOU WERE WARNED!
Amongst other things that I consider to be, less than my finer moments, and certainly something, in hindsight I would take a "redo" on, is one of the strongest memories I recall each time I hear this album. The three guys and I, along with a gaggle of other idiot teenagers who, on any given evening, spent every chance we got hanging out and being stupid, would find three or four jiffy markets where we could purchase butane. We would save the plastic bags that the newspaper came in, because even though we were idiots, we did read the newspaper daily. And, believe it or not, we all had full time jobs. Miracles, I tell you, only miracles saw fit to make sure we made it through each day, alive.
So once we had purchased three or four containers of butane, we would gather back at our pathetic excuse for an apartment and get out the plastic newspaper sleeves. Pop Violator in the "boom box" and fill those plastic sleeves full of butane. Shake the bag. Feel it get cold. Inhale. Hold it. Exhale. Feel the burn....wha...wha...wha...high! We listened to that album high on butane, more times than I care to remember. It truly is a miracle that none of us ever required a trip to the emergency room.
Years later, I was watching Rescue 911. You remember that show? William Shatner hosted it. Anywho, I was watching an episode and the idiot kids were "huffing". Now, every other episode I had ever watched, something tragic happened, and then Rescue 911 came and saved the day. That was the whole premise of the show. Every time, tragedy, save the day. Tragedy, save the day. Not this episode. One of the kids who was "huffing" butane, DIED. I gasped. My heart sunk. I was transported right back to that living room floor, where I, and my friends spent so many times, inhaling butane.
First, I had never heard the term huffing. Second, I lived a sheltered life. Third, while "huffing" it never occurred to me that we could die. Fourth, I was an idiot. And lastly, I WAS AN IDIOT!
Each time I hear the album, I thank God that I made it through my teenage years alive. Because let's face it, obviously I was tempting Fate each time I did something THAT stupid. And if I was THAT stupid, it can only be attributed to God having a plan for me! Seriously, it's a miracle!
Well, that's my Memoir Monday. I have many other memories that go with my Depeche Mode Violator album, and many reasons to love it that don't include stupidity. Enjoy your Monday folks!
Remember, music makes your spirit fill with youth.