At some point 38 years ago, I was at some random college party, and the Violent Femmes came on. And I shouted, “I hope you know this will go down on your permanent record.”
I got to do the same thing, on Friday night, at Ravinia, when I saw the Femmes live, with the Chicago Symphony Orchestra, with two of my college roommates. I may have sung along. I may have yelled and clapped and “woo-hooed” many, many times. I may have danced (okay, I call it “dancing” but less forgiving observers might deign to disagree). Among the crowd of thousands of Femmes fans, I may have had a moment of perfect happiness and gratitude for being there.
Why do I share this? Because I didn’t actually want to go.
When You Want to Say “No”
Oh, I wanted to go when my friend, “Skub,” suggested it months ago. But that girl wasn’t around by the time Friday afternoon got here. I’d been swamped at work, and busy promoting The Book That (Almost) Got Me Fired: How I (Barely) Survived a Year in Corporate America, and trying to keep an eyeball on my teenaged kiddos, and take care of the animals, and play 8-ball in my pool league a couple of nights a week, and trying to keep up with housework and chores (I finally did clean my bathroom, straighten up the kitchen, and vacuum the house), and do those damned daily Ms (which I still swear by!) and at that moment, I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to drive to Ravinia, in traffic, in the backseat of Skub’s car, and then have to deal with the thousands-of-cars crush coming out of Ravinia afterwards.
At that moment, I would have preferred to stay home and watch Midsomer Murders, my favorite British murder mystery series. I was tempted to say “no.”
But I had made the commitment. I had said “yes.” I had bought the ticket. So I went.
And I had an experience I’ll never forget. I got to hang out with a couple of my besties, and walk around the beautiful grounds of Ravinia. I got to see the Femmes perform live. I even handed out a few bookmarks and hopefully sold a few books. And go up to random strangers who had on versions of the same shirt I did, and take photos. Because I’m like that. I’m a little “extra,” as kids used to say.
You know what? I kinda love being extra. I love yelling out Violent Femmes lyrics. I love “dancing.”
And I really love saying “yes” instead of ‘no.”