My quest to hear what Colin Hay has to say about my life had some cool twists. Awesome venue: No clumsy-pawed security, so no Tampax-dropping flashbacks. And the opening act, Chris Trapper, may be a stranger to me, but he had some things to say about my life as well. Who knew?
Some things Colin Hay had to say about my life I will keep to myself. They are small things, but they are mine own. His show was a turning point. Things changed because of it. I changed because of it. And I don't just mean having the image of a pot-smoking, TV-watching goat permanently burned into my brain.
I also don't mean wondering what perverse force of nature draws several hundred pairs of eyes simultaneously to the crotch of the man who's just said he had prostate cancer. I don't actually think prostate cancer survivors have glow-in-the-dark junk, but we were all definitely checking for something.
Much changed last night, but some things, regrettably, have not changed. Inside my five-foot-zero body lives The Hulk, and nobody likes me when I'm angry. Somehow, I became trapped between my hunky husband and four inches of door frame as the Variety gave birth to many hundred humans at once. It was enough to make Mother Mary give Baby Jesus a little shake, I tell you.
Ribs slowly separated from cartilage as I was squeaking out words like excuse me, I'm down here, don't step on me, make room please, does anyone know if the trampled kids at the Who show were able to have open-casket funerals? No one seemed to hear, so I opened my mouth and loosed my inner Hulk.
"Get the FUCK out of my way!" I bellowed, and started throwing elbows, clearing a path. True, the throwing of elbows may have deprived a few fellers of post-show fun with their old ladies, but I was free to take my place in line to meet Colin Hay and that was the important thing.
I felt no guilt, because Colin Hay had something new to say about my life last night, even before I claimed my place in line. During his show, he looked deep into my eyes as I listened solemnly, taking each and every word to heart:
"Becky," he said to me from the stage, his fuggin halo barely visible in the stage lights.
"Becky, sometimes it's absolutely necessary that you cuss like a drunk Navy midshipman with flaming toilet tissue stuck to his backside. I know what's been shoved down your throat your entire life, but trust me: God will love you anyway. You must be heard, so sometimes you must use shocking words in a loud voice. What you have to say is that important."
That's the way I remember it, anyway. A small thing, but a thing mine own.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
Anything Colin Hay has to say about my life
Yeah, that Colin Hay. The singer for Men at Work, a slightly offbeat 80s band famous for songs like "Overkill" and "Land Down Under," which raised this burning question: What the hell is vegemite?
Colin Hay has a solo career, and Geddy and I are going to see him in concert tonight. "My my my, it's a beautiful world," he will sing to me. "Perhaps this is as good as it gets." I will cry when he sings, "I can see you where you're hiding, and there's water over you."
Because I know I will cry, I will have to carry Kleenex in my bag, which I suppose will have to be searched at the door. I am fortunate to no longer have any need for Tampax, which always used to hit the ground when concert security's big, clumsy hands went pawing through my things. Never the lipstick or the Doublemint, always the Tampax. Hopefully the Kleenex will stay put, but if it falls out, at least it won't be awkward.
Colin Hay will sing sentimental songs and I will feel sentimental feelings. I will hold my husband's hand and regret how close we were to giving up on each other. I will sharply, fiercely miss my dead brother. I will ache over the calculated and senseless murder of another brother's marriage, the theft of his children, and I will fight against raw, blinding hatred. I will wish for a time when life wasn't so difficult to navigate and I wasn't so tired. Or sad.
Colin Hay will sing to me,
"When the pieces, they all fit together
Through the dark clouds, the sun will shine
I could wait for a change in the weather
Or let the rain wash it all away."
Anything Colin Hay has to say about my life will be something I know already. I know I am giving myself permission to acknowledge my regret, my pain and my anger, but also that I must put them right away again in a tiny corner of my heart. That's all the space they deserve, and all I can spare and still have room for all the amazing, beautiful, joyful, soul-expanding experiences God has promised to me.
Colin Hay will sing to me, and I will collect the rain on my Kleenex and throw it away. Colin Hay will share anything he has to say about my life, and anything Colin Hay has to say about my life will help me remember what I know already.
Colin Hay has a solo career, and Geddy and I are going to see him in concert tonight. "My my my, it's a beautiful world," he will sing to me. "Perhaps this is as good as it gets." I will cry when he sings, "I can see you where you're hiding, and there's water over you."
Because I know I will cry, I will have to carry Kleenex in my bag, which I suppose will have to be searched at the door. I am fortunate to no longer have any need for Tampax, which always used to hit the ground when concert security's big, clumsy hands went pawing through my things. Never the lipstick or the Doublemint, always the Tampax. Hopefully the Kleenex will stay put, but if it falls out, at least it won't be awkward.
Colin Hay will sing sentimental songs and I will feel sentimental feelings. I will hold my husband's hand and regret how close we were to giving up on each other. I will sharply, fiercely miss my dead brother. I will ache over the calculated and senseless murder of another brother's marriage, the theft of his children, and I will fight against raw, blinding hatred. I will wish for a time when life wasn't so difficult to navigate and I wasn't so tired. Or sad.
Colin Hay will sing to me,
"When the pieces, they all fit together
Through the dark clouds, the sun will shine
I could wait for a change in the weather
Or let the rain wash it all away."
Anything Colin Hay has to say about my life will be something I know already. I know I am giving myself permission to acknowledge my regret, my pain and my anger, but also that I must put them right away again in a tiny corner of my heart. That's all the space they deserve, and all I can spare and still have room for all the amazing, beautiful, joyful, soul-expanding experiences God has promised to me.
Colin Hay will sing to me, and I will collect the rain on my Kleenex and throw it away. Colin Hay will share anything he has to say about my life, and anything Colin Hay has to say about my life will help me remember what I know already.
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