Thursday, August 25, 2005

Those Kids

So often these days I see teens wearing not so much punk rock clothing as New Wave clothing. How excellent except how devastating that I am a mom now and not still a Waver. When we pass, I can tell that these kids can't see me for who I am.
At sunset tonight, I saw three sixteenish boys flitting around the Slope in pegged girl-jeans, skinny ties, floppy hair, and acne flare-ups. I was ready to volunteer to drink Robotussin with them behind Fruita Monument High School but certainly I'd get hauled in by the same cops who saved the daughter I lost on the 'F' train.
But shout it from the rooftops people; New, New Wave is here!
Now, let me flashback to about 1983.
Thank you.
I've gone to the Salt Lake City temple with my Grand Junction Mormon youth group and the big city is working its magic on me. Yes, I am aware that we are there to participate in proxy baptisms for all the dead people who walked the blue-green Earth (walked while they were alive,) but how pedestrian is that when this city is chock-full of New Wavers and Mods! Not a farmboy as far as the eye can see. The Vespas, the skaters, the shaven-off eyebrows and black eyeliner used as lipstick. Oh, my. It's possible that during the qualifying group-interview to do baptisms for the dead that I may have not raised up my hand when questions like, "do you ever entertain the idea of ripping off the shirt from and licking the concave chest of the skinny, shy, but sadly, gay boy you hang around with behind Fruita Monument High School? Brethren? Sisters? No? Okay. A roomful of temple-worthy teens is such a joy, honestly, such a joy." (I know what you are thinking but this is what the question generally felt like to me, the, "flavor" if you will. The outcome was the same any way the question was posed: no horny teens copped to horniness in the group, thus many people from 1800's Europe involuntarily became Mormons posthumously via horny small-town American teenage liars that weekend.)
So I am in the van parked at Temple Square, an invisible but very tough mental veil dividing me from the hometown hicks in the youth group while they sing along to, I don't know, Journey. Out the tinted windows, I see the Godlike beauty of a Waver flicking, flicking, and again, flicking his inky bangs out of his eyes. All this will be mine, I think, someday.
And it was mine. And it is mine. Dan was a Waver in Salt Lake City at exactly that time. He hung out downtown by the Temple right where the Ford van with the tinted windows was parked and guess what! That was him with his bangs in his eyes. He remembers a beautiful girl looking out the window of a Ford van and not being able to not love her. Ok he doesn't, but in the movie he will and she will breathe on the window and in that mist draw a heart with her finger around his head and say, "I'll come back to find you Waver Boy and when I do, I will make you marry me and have two kids with me who we can mess up good and take to live in New York City, New York and it'll be rad."
And, Bretheren. It is rad.


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