Nostalgia

There are countless emotions we experience in our lives.  Even a single day can consist of dozens of feelings that can stretch from one end of the spectrum to the other.  Some feelings we love, some we hate, some we crave...some are all three.  For myself, that feeling is nostalgia.  Nostalgia, to me, is like a quilt that is soft, comforting, and familiar.  I wrap it around myself, and its magical qualities are like a time machine that propel me to anywhere I've been before.  Old pictures, old songs, old movies, old friends, old t-shirts are all quilts in disguise.  Whether it be in the cinema or the laboratory, time travel is an idea that most people would use to prevent a past event or witness a famous historic event.  If my nostalgia quilt could transport me back in time, I would be content to just revisit moments in my own past.

I would zoom back in time to March 1988.  At first glance, most people would wonder why I would send myself back to standing outside in an ice storm.  But the people who were there with me would recall that was the night we stood on top of Market Square Arena waiting for them to open the doors to the Whitesnake concert.  We had festival seating tickets, so my friends and I headed downtown right after school.  The temperature started to drop, and the slow drizzle of rain turned into freezing sleet.  Even our 14 layers of hairspray could not compete with the weather.  By the time they let in the crowd, we were all on the verge of hypothermia AND had flat hair.  The concert was amazing, there was at least half an inch of ice on everything when we left to go home, and I am still surprised we made it back safely. 

Zoom to the summer of 1992 to the bachelorette party of one of my best friends.  We had the hot-stripper-guy-dressed-like-a-cop show up at the door.  After 20 minutes of his flinging his banana hammock in people's faces, he put his costume back on.  He had some time to kill until his next gig, so he sat around and had a beer.  We were asking what other costumes he wears.  He tells us that one of his stripper friends had a pizza delivery costume that really caught the ladies by surprise.  Well, our entertainer leaves, actual pizza was ordered, and our bachelorette is getting really intoxicated.  The real pizza delivery guy shows up, and our drunk bride-to-be thinks it is a second stripper.  She is yelling, grabbing this guy, and telling him to take off his clothes.  We are trying to convince her he is just here to bring pizza, but she proceeded to steal his hat and chase him around the table.  The guy looked a bit like a Hobbit, but her beer goggles did not mind.  We paid the man (got his hat back for him) and got him out unharmed.  I bet he wrote a letter to Playboy about that night, "Dear Playboy Forum, while working as a pizza delivery man, one night a room full of women wanted me to deliver more than just the 16" they had ordered over the phone..."

The problem with the nostalgia quilt is that you cannot live your life wrapped up in a blanket.  People will stare and wonder why you are hiding.  The quilt has to be folded up and put away every once in a while.  Unless they were there, others do not understand why your nostalgic moments are so precious.  The other day, I found myself trying to convince my daughters to listen to the song, "Is This Love," by Survivor (love my "Hair Nation" station on XM Radio).  They looked at me and giggled, grabbed their backpacks, and got out of the car.  They walked inside the house while I sat in the driveway and cranked up the volume.  When the song was over, I folded up the quilt and tucked it in the glove box. 

I dare you to watch this.  Some of you won't get it, but others will get out their own quilts.