It was the summer of 1981 and we were visiting family in Louisville, Kentucky. Rick Springfield was on the turntable and the words of Jessie’s Girl belted through the speakers shaking the windows.
“Wow, that’s loud,” I yelled at Chuck and David, my cousins.
“Yup,” David said, his blue eyes nearly closing as his mouth curled into a smile.
I was jealous. Sure, we had a turntable at home, but the only records I had for it were story time read alongs. How boring!
The music continued to shake the house and we began to run around the pool table. Each of us were too short to play, but David, Chuck, and my brother Dan were whooping it up. Their home was far more exciting that our house in Pennsylvania, but the excitement was short lived.
“Danny, Laura, time for bed,” Mom yelled down the stairs. Chuck turned the turntable off and Mom, Dad, Dan and I headed out to the camper for a night’s rest.
I went to sleep with the tune of Jessie’s Girl playing in my mind. How did they get to listen to such music, the suggestion of a girl loving a man with his body? Their parents were pretty cool! Sure, my parents were pretty cool too, but not like that!
Dad took us camping and we did tons of fun stuff, and Mom clipped coupons and watched sales so that she could use leftover grocery money to buy us books from the Scholastic book club. It would take me years to have the guts to listen to a song like Jessie’s Girl with my parents in hearing distance!