“23 Years ago, a boy wrecked his life.” That’s the fundamental fear of a boy, maybe all boys? I should have asked that girl over in the corner to dance with me. “Maybe you was the one I should have holded on to.” Paul Westerberg was born the same year as me. He sure knows how to put a voice to feelings I wish I could identify with. 23 years ago we were 25 years old. My ass was somewhere I don’t know where, those lost years. The song makes me pine for those years I can’t quite grasp.
Maybe the King of All Prom Songs. I know this song gets me right where it counts: visions of standing in the corner of a dark gymnasium, looking at all the cute guys dancing with the popular girls. The sound of the flute dancing above the heads of all the couples with sweaty palms. Couples wondering “now what should I do?” And then all of a sudden … a boy! He asks me to dance! Can it be true? I put my hands around his neck. His hands are loose around my waist. We start to sway, stepping in time to the music. I feel like I’m floating with that flute, but still grounded by the base notes of the piano. So lovely. We move in a circle - then another. And another. Then another. Oh. My. Gosh. Why do we keep going in circles? Can’t we do something else, like just step back and forth? Does anyone see this? Boring. I’m. So. Bored. Please make it stop. Chicago, what are you doing to me? Where is Michael Jackson when I need him? Help! Is that Denise over there? Her red satin jacket is so cute. I wonder where she got it? Maybe I’ll get one like that for my birthday. Thank goodness. The song is over. Oh, sweet corner. I missed you.
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