Yesterday, I accidentally discovered that a friend of mine loves the same midcentury asthetic the same way I do. Not only that, but she and her husband love the same Exotica, Lounge, easy listening, Hi-Fi Souunds Of Tomorrow music that I love. I’m talking about artists like Esquivel, Martin Denny, Les Baxter, and their contemporaries.
I discovered this genre of music in the mid 90s, and fell in love with it instantly. I thought it was so weird that this guy I was, who loved punk and grunge and metal just absolutely fell head over heels in love with the soothing sounds of midcentury America. Around that time, I also discovered Squirrel Nut Zippers, Asylum Street Spankers, Big Bad Voodoo Daddy, and their contemporaries. So I kinda lump my midcentury obsession together with those bands, even though they aren’t exactly Hi-Fi.
Well, it turns out that my friend and her husband did the exact same thing, and we never knew it about each other. Pretty cool.
I was inspired by this revelation to build a mega playlist that I could enjoy while I played arcade games last night (this is part of my self care routine, I tell myself). So I fired up the old Spotify + Sonos, and I got to work. I started with my KROQ Happy Place playlist, added a couple Exotica and Lounge playlists to the queue, threw in Bob Baker Marionette Theater’s Halloween playlist, and finally added a Dark Wave playlist to the whole thing. I shuffled it all together, and it was really great. I think it was like 2 days worth of music?
I’d been listening for like half an hour or so. I’d heard a deeply satisfying mix of Hi-Fi and classic punk, some new wave, even some of the Halloween stuff. I was enjoying the SHIT out of it.
I was playing Mr. Do!, as one does, when A Rush and a Push and the Land Is Ours, by The Smiths, came on.
Holy shit I loved this album when it came out. It was really important to me, when I was in high school.
I stopped playing and let the little dragons kill my Mr. Do! guy, while I listened to the music. Before I knew what was happening, I fell deep into a memory.
I remembered my first significant, meaningful, head-over-heels-in-love experience as a teenager, when I was fourteen, almost fifteen. She was older than me. I think she was a senior when I was a freshman. She was in a drama production with the girl I was dating (and by “dating”, I mean, “endlessly making out with because we were horny teenagers”), and I met her at the cast party for that show.
God, I haven’t thought about this in decades. The girl who was my nominal girlfriend at the time, on our way into the cast party, told me that she’d decided it was time for us to see other people. This blindsided fourteen year-old me. It turns out that there was some dude in the cast she wanted to hook up with, like you do when you’re a teenager, so she sort of … I guess broke up with me for that night, hooked up with this other guy, and then wanted to get back together with me a few days later. I was like, “you broke up with me to hook up with that guy. That’s not cool. We’re staying broken up.” And that was it.
Remember stuff like that when we were kids? How it seemed like the most consequential thing that would ever happen in our lives until the next thing happened to eclipse it, and now when we look back on all of it, with perspective, we’re, like, “Oh boy. LOL.”
So at this party, the girl I was dating pretty much ditched me, and I was kind of alone. Or, more accurately, I was totally alone. This woman (I mean, she was probably 17? But to 14 year-old me she was a woman, unlike the girl I was dating. I feel like this is offensive to say now, but at the time, it made sense) sits down next to me and just starts talking to me about stuff. She’s super kind, and within a few minutes, we’re talking like we’ve known each other forever. We spent the rest of this party just sitting on this balcony, talking about stuff I wish I could remember, until it was time for everyone to go home. She drove me back to my house, in her BMW 2002, and we listened to KROQ on the way. When we got to my house, she gave me a hug, and suggested that we should hang out. I didn’t get any romantic interest from her at all. I just felt like this person and I clicked for whatever reason, and I was totaly into being friends with her. I wrote down my phone number for her, she wrote down hers for me, and I went into my house, much happier than I should have been, considering that my girlfriend essentially dumped me on our way into a party and hooked up with some dude under my nose just a few hours earlier.
I’m not going to name either of the ladies in this story, but I’m going to call the girl who drove me home “Kara”.
Over the next few weeks, Kara and I became insanely good friends. She lived in an apartment with her mom, and we spent endless hours sitting on the floor in her room, listening to records. She is the person who introduced me to Violent Femmes, Siouxie and the Banshees, Bauhaus, The Cure, and The Smiths. I’m positive there were others, but those are the ones that I can clearly remember.
I should have told you this earlier: she was the first real goth girl I knew. She wore a Bettie Page haircut, had incredible style, and was ALWAYS totally put together.
I honestly don’t know what 14 year-old me brought to the table, but she saw something worthwhile in me that I didn’t, and she nurtured the hell out of that part of me. She took me to plays, she took me to art shows, she introduced me to the most interesting people I had ever met to that point in my life.
Once, when I was in my 30s, related a little bit about her to a friend of mine, who is also a giant nerd who married a super cool woman who is way out of his league, and he said, “She made you cool.”
I am not, was not, and never will be cool, but I appreciated the sentiment. She certainly got me as close to cool as I’d ever get. And she opened my world to all this incredible art and culture that I never would have found without her.
So one day we were listening to records, talking about The Stranger, which she had recommended I read, because I liked the song Killing An Arab by The Cure. She pulled out this stack of 12 inch singles. Each one had gorgeous art on it, photographs of old movie stars, it looked like, with a sort of silver tone over it all.
“I collect import singles,” she said. “This is my collection of The Smiths.”
I sort of knew The Smiths, because Strangeways had recently come out, and after hearing Girlfriend in a Coma on KROQ, I went to the Warehouse and bought the CD. But to that point, I hadn’t listened to any of their other records. The extent of my New Wave at that moment was Depeche Mode and Duran Duran, maybe a very little Tears For Fears. I was still mostly punk and (I know this is incredibly weird) Pink Floyd at that moment in my life. It makes no sense, then or now. But it’s where I was, musically.
I forget what was on her turntable, but she took it off, put the record back in its sleeve, and pulled out one of those Smiths import singles. I want to tell you what it was, but I don’t remember. I feel like it could have been Bigmouth Strikes Again, or Shoplifters of the World Unite. Maybe it was This Charming Man.
Remember the first time you heard some music and you thought, “oh my god they are talking about me. They GET me,” and it changes your life?
That’s how I felt about The Smiths. We spent the next hour or so playing all of her import records, and when she drove me home, we stopped at The Warehouse so I could buy Louder Than Bombs, Meat is Murder, and The Queen Is Dead. I remember that she threw a bunch of shade at Louder Than Bombs, because it was the American compilation of the import singles she’d spent considerable time and effort collecting.
Once I started listening to The Queen Is Dead …. wow. It was … everything. I was so sad. It was so lonely. It was so sardonic and biting. He sang about my story, about my life. Oh my god “I know it’s over”? “Bigmouth Strikes Again”? “There is a Light That Never Goes Out”? Holy fucking shit fuck fuck fuck are you serious how does this even exist. This album was taken directly out of that part of my heart I hadn’t had the courage to share with ANYONE.
Okay, real quick, I’m just going to take a moment to make meaningful eye contact with all of you who know precisely what I’m talking about.
I see you, and I just want to remind you all: we made it.
For the next year or so, Kara was one of my best friends. We hung out all the time. We drove around town in her 2002, listening to the music that I still listen to and love today. I don’t remember many of the things we did, but I clearly recall how she made me feel. She was a kind, caring, gentle presence in my life at a time when I desperately needed that person. She exposed me to art, to poetry, to literature, to all the stuff that ended up defining me. She helped me pour the foundation upon which my entire adult life is built. My mother had kept me in a box for my whole life, and Kara showed me that there was a way out of that box.
And then she graduated, moved away, and we lost touch with each other.
The whole year we were friends, I was just completely in love with her. She made me feel so good about myself. She took a genuine interest in me. She just made me feel special. She made me feel, without ever saying anything directly, like I wasn’t the unlovable, unworthy piece of crap my dad made me believe I was. In one year, she did more for my self-esteem than anyone else had in my entire life. And nothing even remotely romantic ever happened between us. I mean, I would listen to The Queen Is Dead on repeat and just fucking pine away for her to love me the way I loved her, but I never said anything because I knew that she was out of my league, probably not interested in me that way anyway, and I didn’t want to risk upsetting what was one of the most important friendships I’d ever had. If she knew that I would have crawled over borken glass for her, (and honestly, I don’t know how she didn’t) she never let on. She was just kind to me, and such a good friend.
I haven’t thought about her in 20 years. But when I thought about her last night, I missed her again the way I did when she moved away back in 1988 or 1989. It only lasted a second, but I felt it, hard, in that little part of teenage me who comes out from time to time and needs to be hugged.
I don’t listen to The Smiths anymore. After Morrissey turned into … what would we even call him, now? He’s such a dick. I can’t stand to hear his voice any more. He’s like kind of a fascist, he’s kind of a bigot, and he’s just gross and awful. Is he an incel? It seems like sad kids like us can go that way, if we don’t have someone to love us and guide us through it, if we don’t have a Kara. I feel like this man who wrote so many songs that were so important to so many of us who felt alone, and alienated, and unlovable, we felt seen and validated by his lyrics. And I feel betrayed by him, now. Like, how did that guy turn into this guy? It’s a giant bummer. And The Smiths was SUCH a significant and meaningful part of my life, I can’t just look past him and separate the art from the artist. Believe me, I’ve tried.
But yesterday, when my massive playlist kicked out one of the Smiths songs that I suspect was part of the dark wave collection I added to the queue, I didn’t skip it. In my head, I created this static warp bubble where 15 year-old me could sit next to me now, and we listened to The Smiths, together. I doubt very much that Kara ever thinks of me, if she remembers me at all. But when I was 14 and 15, my life was so much better because she was in it. Teenage me wanted adult me to remember her, how kind she was to me, and how she exploded my world with her music.
And when it was all over, teenage me felt kind of … soothed, I guess? I can’t explain that part of it. I feel embarrassed and awkward when I try, kind of the way teenage me felt all the time.
Kara is the reason I still clutch my heart when I see goth kids or theatre kids. I remember being them, and I wouldn’t have even known I was one of them, without her.
I will never know why she decided to come sit next to me that night. I was just a weird kid, in a house that was filled with weird kids. I wasn’t special. There was no reason I would have stood out among them. And yet. I like to believe she saw a fellow traveler, and she helped him get as close to cool as he was ever going to get.
I’m so sad that Morrissey is such a shit. I’m so sad that I can’t listen to The Smiths like I once did, because I just can’t separate the art from the artist in this specific case.
But I’m so glad that I heard The Smiths last night, and that it inspired me to build that static warp bubble. I’ve spent a LOT of time lately with teenage me, and he’s been telling me about a lot of his pain and trauma. It was so wonderful to hear him share joyful memories, from an otherwise really tough time in his life.
Kara will never see this, but I’m putting it out into the world, anyway: Thank you. I never told you how much you meant to me, but I think you knew. Thank you for being there for me, and for being exactly who I needed. Teenage me will always miss teenage you, and I hope that adult you is happy and healthy. I hope you have kids, because I bet you’d be the most amazing mom.
A cool girl closer to my age than that bought Louder than Bombs at the closest thing to a cool record store we had near our house on our first date. We’ve been married for 25 years now. This kind of post is why I call you a voice of our generation. (Personally I still seem okay with the Smiths music if it comes on the radio or something — somehow I find it easier to separate art from artist than I do with someone like Rowling).
Thanks for sharing. What you – and by you I mean all people of the world – touches others. You were her fellow “hooligan”. So when you write, ” I doubt very much that Kara ever thinks of me, if she remembers me at all.” I’m going to say that she does. Maybe 14 year old Wil didn’t feel like he made an impact on the world or people but I’m quite confident you did.
Every time you write about music and/or San Gabriel Valley stuff I get pulled right back to my own days. 45’s and cassette shelves, Vroman’s and the Pasadena Public Library. Tootling around in my VW Bug without an option for music when my friends were playing Metallica or Thomas Dolby in their Honda Prelude.
Please keep sharing the old and the new.
One of my best friends back then had an awesome Bug! We were more into Thomas Dolby than Metallica at that point, but still sounds like a delightful time.
My music tastes aren’t the same as yours. As a gay kid of the 70s/80s/90s, my tastes lean towards the bubblegum pop of those eras (yes, incl. Debbie Gibson). But, you not cool? You’re cool as fuck! You’re awesome! You were a cool as a teen, you’re cool now, and you’ll continue to be cool! Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
And, if “Kara” is reading this, thank you for helping Wil be the cool guy that he is!
Your pieces involving music genres interwoven with your life experiences have taught me a lot. I love hearing about all the different music out there I have never investigated. So cool, which really, does make YOU cool. For sharing, for your generosity.
Why will “Kara” never see this? I hope she does and knows the esteem and love you have for her. I never had a Kara and wish I had. I am almost completely self educated through some college and therapy for family of origin and parental abuse multiple times.
Music and theater references came through performing and pop culture. For instance, I didn’t know who The Sundays were until the Buffy episode, The Prom (Wild Horses). Or The Smiths until Charmed (original show). I think I watched that show just to hear the theme song, How Soon is Now.
Maybe think of the best of The Smiths and Morrissey the way Dan Radcliffe advised in a very humane post/apology online for J.K. Rowling’s inhumanity to the LGBTQIA community and trans women in particular on The Trevor Project website:
https://www.thetrevorproject.org/blog/daniel-radcliffe-responds-to-j-k-rowlings-tweets-on-gender-identity/
“To all the people who now feel that their experience of the books has been tarnished or diminished, I am deeply sorry for the pain these comments have caused you. I really hope that you don’t entirely lose what was valuable in these stories to you. If these books taught you that love is the strongest force in the universe, capable of overcoming anything;…”
Thanks Wil, for all you do, all you share. The Kara ‘Verse is one of the best ‘Verses I’ve ever read. Inspiring. You are the Hero of your own story. And I think you’re cool.
I had a similar problem wrapping my head round the Morrisey paradox, I’m think he just didnt take to being old (and fat) all that well and I’m darned if his current wackadoodle will infect my memories of The Smiths (as despite what he might think it was a band)
I bet she sees it! So awesome.
How could Kara possibly not remember you? She absolutely does. And you could probably find her on Facebook or something! 🙂 But yes, you made me think of the people who “made me cool”. Priceless days.
Uh, Wil? You are kind of a big deal, and if i had hung out with you for a year when i was 17 and you were 14, and then you got kinda famous and stuff like you are now, i might not contact you, but i would never forget you. Also, as a goth girl who listened to import Smiths, i am 99% sure she loved you, but hadnt figured out her sexual orientation. Also, 3 years is huge at that age. ( Speaking as a different goth punk who loved the Smiths, punk, and Pink Flyod at that exact moment in time). Its just a hunch, but none of us were that different .Music was everything.
And this is a beautiful story about friendship, and kindness, and music, and love. Also, good for you for staying broken up with girl number one. Excellent self esteem. Id have fluttered back like a moth to a flame.
I am ignorant of the ways of playlists; do people share them?
Laura, yes, we can share playlists in most of the streaming platforms. I’m happy to show you how, but I’m sure you can find directions on Google, too. It’s pretty easy and kinda fun. As close as we get to mix tapes anymore.
This spoke straight to my soul. Also, fuck Morrissey. I’m with you on this had disconnect between who he is and what those songs meant to me. Gross.
There’s always the choice to see Morrissey, giant floppy cock that he is, as only one quarter of the band that made such wonderful music. As an Englishman from the north-west of our benighted island, I find the way in which The Smiths have been denigrated in recent years, thanks solely to the actions of one giant, floppy cock, ever so slightly disappointing. Could we not instead focus on the sheer majesty of Jonny Marr’s musicianship, Mike Joyce’s tight drumming and Andy Rourke’s innovative bass playing? Why let the wankers win?
I want this on a bumper sticker: “Why let the wankers win?”
You are definitely cool. So cool I had to go back and listen to The Guild I’m The One That’s Cool, just to remind myself, me too. Kara set you on the road to your future cooldom.
OMFG, The Smiths… I blasted a boat load of New Order back then plus the Communards but they weren’t The Smiths. Great blog. I think I’ve been a Kara but not musically. More like a “hey, you remind me of me” kind of thing. Thanks for the words. I’m glad she sat next to you that night!
“The only true currency in this bankrupt world… is what you share with someone else when you’re uncool.” —Lester Bangs, “Almost Famous”
It’s good that you’ve been processing the trauma and grief. That’s important to recovering. And it’s also good that you’re uncovering the moments of joy as well.
MARTIN DENNY?! I love his music!!
I think you would like Joel Paterson – one of his bands is The Modern Sounds. If you look at his album covers, they (and Joel) look like they came from 1955. He is a guitarist who deserves to be famous.
First, I think you underestimate who you were at 14 – you were famous, and that attracts people.
Secondly, I expect ‘Kara’ follows you, because even if she let you go when she was 18, she’d have thought about you later in life and, if she’s alive, she’s following you now. You were special to her and she’d have held on to her memories of you.
I doubt his fame had anything to do with why she sat down with him that night. She may just have recognized a kindred spirit, as we sometimes do, and decided to act on it. She may have sensed that he was hurting, and out of his element, and might enjoy a conversation with somebody kind. Only she knows, I suppose.
Oh, i dont meant that kara sat down with him because he was famous. I assume she is also famous, otherwise, why the i wont mention their names bit. I meant that Wil is kind of a big deal in all he has done for the world BESIDES acting. Writing like this is lifesaving. It is transformative. It is everything.
I still listen to the Smiths for Johnny Marr, the greatest guitarist in the world. His riffs have a way of transporting me through time and space, back to people and places that are no more, yet I still hold dear. Melancholy longing. Saudade.
Marr co-wrote so many of their songs, it would be a shame to never listen to his iconic guitar playing again due to the opinion/views of one person in the band.
This is a wonderfully sweet story, Wil. I never had a “Kara” in my life but I’m glad you did. I’m sure she remembers you.
♥️♥️♥️♥️
Another instance where music transported you to a great place in your memory. I’m glad you had a Kara, and I would imagine she remembers you. I never had a friend like Kara…but I sure do have certain songs that bring me right back to certain ages, experiences, people, or places. They aren’t always great memories, but some of them are fantastic.
Hooray for good music and great memories!
This is such a sweet story! I have no idea what you are talking about, music-wise, but finding a music soulmate had to be wonderful. I always love reading both your fiction and nonfiction. You are one righteous dude!♥️♥️♥️
Dude, you are cool!! Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.
A Dad
You should find her, let her know the impact she had on your life. You never know if she might need to hear that.
Matt, good point. My teacher wife has had several students come back and let her know the positive influence she had and it means a LOT.
Hopefully she follows and read this post. I was so pleased to hear from my HS (cvhs!) prom date /bf that he recalls me as a positive person at a tough time. He was a recent immigrant and felt very isolated, and it was very sweet of him to reach out 30yr later to express gratitude. It refills the empathy banks so depleted these days.
Wil, I see you, I was you and later in life a became a Kara to someone.
Thank you for this post, coincidentally I read it while The Smiths came on my playlist.
Huzzah to Kara being awesome for you back then. I’m glad you’re remembering the joys of your childhood.
And I feel like you’ve been a Kara to others (c.f. “walk to me”), so please don’t forget that.
I envy you for finding that kind of friend right when you needed her. I’m still looking…and I’m about the same age you are. (Actually I’ve kind of given up looking)
What a beautiful tribute to compassion, love and the sweet light in life so necessary for growth. I love that your teenage self brought it out for all of us to share!
Wil, Oh, I’m so glad you’re writing on your blog again! Your short stories about your life and your growth are something that touches me deeply, even if I don’t know ANY of the artists you describe in this piece. I can relate to the awkwardness (at a party, I’m the person in the corner intently examining a plant), growing up and having a friend in junior high. For me, it was Kathy. I can’t get in touch with her, except once at a high school reunion, but I think of her all the time. Your piece brought back such memories: the cool record store that I was too intimidated to go into, Simon & Garfunkel, Cat Stevens, Harry Nilsson, Bread and later, bluegrass. Thank you so much!
In regards to youthful priorities: I was in band in high school. One year, I think junior going into senior, I desperately wanted to be some higher type of officer. I did not get the position. I was devastated. I tried not to, but I cried a little bit off on one side of the auditorium place where our end of the year banquet was being held. The older sister of a friend of mine came up. She was in college. I’d known her when I was a freshman. And she told me that while this set back seemed like the biggest deal in the world right then, it wouldn’t mean anything later. Oh, the wisdom that comes with age. Seriously, Mary (that was her name) was so kind and helpful in that moment.
I’m glad you had a Kara. I don’t know that I did, really, but I might have been one, in retrospect. When I was in early high school, I had a nine-year-old buddy. I didn’t want to be in high school when I first started it. I wanted to play on the playground and be a child still. So I took up with a kid who, in thinking on it now, yeah…probably needed a buddy. Obviously no other types of attractions or anything. Just friends. But that was a good summer or two. I still think about him sometimes. I doubt he thinks of me. But maybe he does. Anyway…this is a nice post, and I’m glad you had that year.
“a friend of mine, who is also a giant nerd who married a super cool woman who is way out of his league” You talking to ME?
I love that you’re writing all this great stuff about your life. This makes me happy.
How nice that I stumbled upon this post! What a wonderful and wonderfully told story. The title drew me in as that Smiths song (“Sweet and Tender Hooligan”) was once a special little favourite of mine. Funnily enough, I discovered it through an American girlfriend of mine at my British university in the 80s – she had that collection (“Louder than Bombs”). I was a pretty awkward teenager too. Never exactly had a Kara my life, which is maybe a pity. The people who showed me things musically etc and influenced me were male. I was just thinking yesterday how it was odd and sad that an early girlfriend of mine who I was crazy about and devastated to lose liked various artists and bands that I barely even bothered to check out, although I much later realized they could/would have totally been my thing. A kind of sexism on my part, to be sure, but difficult to understand in retrospect, as I was so into the idea of gentleness, women’s rights, and desperate (too desperate!) to understand what she thought and felt.
I was struck by your list of things Kara introduced you to – how I could have practically come up with the same band shortlist. Really takes me back. The people posting replies here feel like a great community too – that’s quite an achievement (of the original post or blog). Totally sympathise with (have also strongly felt) the disappointment in Morrissey, although I suppose it is a reminder that what a person embodies for you as an artist is never quite what they are. (With JK Rowling, I had felt that she was getting a bit of a rough time, but maybe I haven’t informed myself properly. I do prefer argument to attempting to silence someone, though, and threats and personal attacks are almost never ok.)
But I am getting off the topic here, of remembering someone who gave you something special. I have been tempted to contact people who meant a lot to me, but I think it requires a lot of care (even the decision to do it). Maybe writing about it is enough.
For me it was the first Smiths album. That one has logged a lot of miles. I just ignore the Morrissey crap. You might try listening to Johnny Marr live doing the Smiths tunes. For me, he was the genius of the band. In particular, The Headmaster Ritual (Live) from Adrenalin Baby – Johnny Marr Live 2015.
Wait! Where’s the Spotify playlist? Can you share it?
Oop, never mind. Found it.
I can’t begin to express what reading this means to me. I had a hard time focusing on it and really-by-FSM reading it because it shone so brightly in my eyes. But I’m glad you wrote it and shared it. Thanks, man.
From what strange angles do we arrive at such similar places. (“We” being people in general.) Wil and I are of an age, so I often “get” his cultural influences, growing up. The Smiths’ active years coincided with the formative years of just about everyone my age, the years in which we left childhood for burgeoning adulthood, and all the glorious, hormone-addled profundity therein.
Having said that, whereas Wil describes himself as awkward, diffident, and “unpopular” in that very teenagery sense of the word, I was, okay, also awkward, but not shy, and not unpopular. I was the one who adopted the geeky drama kids, the (old-school, pencils-and-paper) RPG gamers, etc, as my preferred cliquĂ©. It helped to have things in common (music being a big one, as my roots were dyed electric green punk), but I was the Kara to their Wil, and I noticed their strange regard. That aura of, “Why is he hanging with us?”
And the truth was, unbeknownst to them, in the middle of the 1980s AIDS panic, and all the rampant, violent homophobia, and the less-talked-about gatekeeping in the not-yet-named-as LGBTQ+ community, I was the lonely bi kid, with no nation of my own. This made me something of a social chameleon, able to walk between cliqués and be accepted as, at least, an honored guest. Which was a privilege, to be sure, but one purchased for the price of never being accepted for who I actually was.
So, I didn’t meet my Kara until after high school. My Kara was of an age with me, all of 19 years old, a young trans woman who saw me as I was, when no one else ever had. She knew even better than I did what it was like to be hated in the straight world, and barely tolerated in the gay world. I’d come from a small, conservative (even for the 80s) town, and the expansion of my world was a joy in large part because my Kara was my guide and my friend, not always patient but endlessly kind. And joyous. I’d never met someone so full of joy when they had so little, materially speaking. “Fuck the world,” was her general attitude; not in anger or hate, but with a fierce determination to be happy wherever she could.
I was, of course, instantly smitten with her. We would laugh ourselves silly, amusing each other while the world disdained us. Every little piece of good fortune was celebrated for the rarity it was, and every ugliness an opportunity to present our backs, turning to face the sun whenever anyone or anything threatened to make us small, or dim our light. As with Wil’s Kara, the end came when one of us moved away (me), but we did reconnect many years later, online. Needless to say, I owe her a debt of honor I can never repay. Since her passing about eight years back, this has become literally true. But at least I got to thank her for everything she’d done, and everything she was for me.
If there’s any lesson in all this, I’m too close to articulate it. I’ll say this to Wil: Having been the Kara and the Kar-ee, she remembers you. Not in the same way, of course; she’s her and you’re you. But you don’t share that much and forget. She didn’t make you cool any more than I made those drama kids cool, or my Kara made me cool. What we did do was share our weird little worlds with each other, and take pleasure in delighting each other with things we held near and dear. I can’t speak for any of the Karas, or for anyone but me, but I suspect getting you into these things she loved, and seeing how you appreciated them, was a Big Fucking Deal to her.
Apologies, everyone, for the mini-autobio. Wil’s story sent me down memory lane, as well, and I found it as scenic as any of us would. As a writer I admire often says, memories make us rich.
I wonder if the music thing is a common Gen X phenomenon. Twenty year old me loved The Cure, Depeche Mode, Stray Cats, Jane’s Addiction, etc. 45 year old me went through what sounds like a very similar Martin Denny, Les Baxter Tiki/Lounge phase.
As for Morrisey, I think of it this way… Smiths Morrissey simply isn’t the same person as current Morrissey. They are literally two different people. You can get all Zen about it, and how nobody is really even the same person from moment to moment, or just think of one as “Mirror Universe Morrissey”, but they’re just not the same guy, and there is no reason to let one ruin the other.
A beautiful story Wil, thanks for sharing. It’s weird, I have no interest in the Smiths, or Morrisey. Although I’m a child of the times I was just not into music in any way. However, I absolutely love this cover of How Soon Is Now, by Snake River Conspiracy: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BzqlLpyPpYs I was so separated from the original I didn’t even know it was a cover!
Even so, I can find it slightly uncomfortable to listen to now, knowing it’s originator’s current behavior. I’m glad you found a way to go beyond that and enjoy those positive feelings once again.
I am loving getting a peek into your mind again, Wil. You have such a talent for evoking the past and the teenage intensity of all those feelings. Thanks for sharing these reflections with us.
Your Kara may not see this post, but the beautiful thing is, there’s millions of Karas out there. It’s worth remembering how our little moments of sharing and validation of others can have bigger impacts than we know at the time, or maybe ever.
And maybe it’s nice to know that, no matter how you feel today, there’s someone out there who only remembers your best side. They’re not wrong, they’re not fools or fooled… they just know that you’re a person who authentically did some good things.
Wil, this by far is one of the greatest remembrances you have ever written – It has stuck with me for days after reading it…
Deep down, I don’t think anyone really thinks they’re cool. But someone else probably thinks they’re cool as hell. I bet Kara thought that about you.