I think a lot about the years 1980-1990. A lot.  A decade when I went from 9-19. For some reason when I look at those years it summons a monumental personal progression. Mostly because I went from 4 foot nothing to 6’1, but also because every year from 9-19 is a tectonic shift that could level L.A.  The San Andreas has nothing on puberty and higher school. 

2010-2020? Meh. Changes yes. Of course it has to do with youth and nostalgia and longing, but one would think that maybe the college years (and extended) would be just as memorable. Not so much. 

I was trying to think of my favorite 80’s year the other day. I kept coming to 1985. Like the fulcrum of a generational teeter totter, it stands out to me. 14 years old. Was that my peak?  Impossible of course, because that was also one of the most tumultuous years of my childhood. My dad went to rehab for 6 months that year, ever changing my views of my young world. Maybe that’s why it’s sticking out. 

I don’t think back on it with just pain and upheaval though there was plenty. That year we also had an exchange student live with us for a year. I learned what it was like to have a brother live with me, something I’d longed for forever. I’m friends with him to this day. 

1985 saw the Breakfast Club, and an explosion of music, first love(s), a hurricane, and me plumping up, only to spend 1986 losing like 40lbs. 

I wrote a song about my dads trip to rehab in 1985 about 11 years later. It was about the hurt but also about redemption. I could go back now and write a much different one. Of unrequited love. Of heat, humidity and sand. Of the beginning of 15 years of trying to prove I could do it my way. “It” being a dive into the outskirts of addiction. Of wasted potential. 

It’s all arbitrary though. I could choose 1987 or 97 if I wanted to and start from there. Some outpost of time deemed “special” or “important” because I have chosen to dwell on it more than another year. 

2020 has been, like all years, interesting. Things like “the worst year ever,” get thrown around a lot. You also said this about 2016. It’s idiotic. All time has ups and downs. Why we feel the need to decide that a year is the “worst ever” is beyond me. It’s how you look at it. 

I could say that 1985 was the worst year of my young life at that point in time. Parents separated, believing things had been a lie, blah blah blah. Now I look back on it as one of my favorite. Weird, huh?

I know I harp on the ability to decide things for ourselves. To decide that things aren’t that bad. To step outside and say “Hold the fucking door.”  I say things like “recognize that your proximity is obscuring your view.” I try an convince you that it’s not that bad out here. 

That doesn’t mean I don’t have good and bad days. It means I (we) truly do control how we look at the world. We can look back on this year as good or bad when it’s a bit further out. Maybe “reverse proximity” is what’s needed. 

1985 dealt hard blows, but also Howard Jones, Things Can Only Get Better, Tears for Fears, Head Over Heels and New Coke. Two outta three’s not too bad. 

#hugsandhi5s