Us in '04.
June 21 marks our 15th wedding anniversary. Seems like yesterday we were a couple college kids leaving love notes and peanut butter cups under each others car windshield wipers in lot 37 at Ferris. Since music is a big part of our relationship, putting together a soundtrack is a great way to celebrate and look back.
Delta Lady, Joe Cocker: One fateful night of dancing, Dave and I left The Creek, and went to Taco Bell on our way back home. We were going to play cards while we ate and put Joe Cocker's greatest hits on. Ryan, Dave's roommate, somehow ended up joining us. I don't want to say we ignored him, but he soon found himself talking to himself while we had our own conversation. He wisely bailed on the situation. Reading the paper and laughing over the headlines, the delicious romantic tension started with You Are So Beautiful, giving way to Feelin' Alright, and we finally had our first kiss somewhere around Delta Lady. Ah, thank you Leon Russell.Flamenco Sketches, Miles Davis: for some stupid reason, we wanted to keep our new relationship a secret. Why? Reasons have been lost in the years. I'm guessing to keep our business from being everybody's business for one. I also had abruptly ended a long-term relationship to be with Dave and didn't want our budding romance to be dismissed as a "friendly neighbor hook up".
Anyway, a week after the first kiss he was playing cards with his roommates, and I was partying with the girls. All the while, we were casually keeping an eye on each other - easy to do as next door neighbors. One by one, the girls went off to do their own thing, and Dave invited me over to hang with the boys so I wouldn't be lonely. The boys took off anyway. Wanting a break from classic rock/grunge/heavy metal, he switched the station to Blue Lake Public Radio. At 3am, they played this 10 minute song from the historic Kind of Blue album. It was an incredibly intimate moment, yet we were seated on couches opposite one another, across the room.
Hey Nineteen, Steely Dan: not even sure how this became part of the story, I think it just WAS. I know that I fell in love with the song back in 1979, a pretty sophisticated choice for a 10-year-old. Dave loved the band, period, and the greatest hits compilation was in heavy rotation with him and the roommates. Like a bat signal, I could tell he was thinking of me when this song blared through the walls, and if I didn't respond by the refrain, he came sauntering over, looking for me. All formality of knocking by this time had disappeared among those of us on the third floor, as all were welcome, except the creeps in 302.
Jesus Built My Hotrod, Ministry: one Saturday afternoon we were both studying, and getting quite tired of books, books and more books. In a fit of rage, Dave hurls his text across the room to declare that he was done for the day. Smiling, he said to me, "I've got an idea, and I want you to say yes."
"Okay... yes."
He wanted pizza, but not just any pizza. He wanted deep dish Chicago-style pizza you could only get in Chicago. Calling around, he found out the place he wanted to go to was 3 1/2 hours away, but closed in 3.
Undeterred, he still wanted pizza and wanted me to go with him. He called his friend Kelly, who was a student at Western. Kelly then placed a call to Vince, who was a student at Goshen College, so we could double. We made plans to meet at Bilbo's, an Irish pub with a band, Killian's beer on tap, Hummers (an ice cream drink made with Bailey's) and the closest we could get to Chicago deep dish without going to Chi-town.
It was not only our first road trip, but also our first official date; all other outings up to that point had been group get togethers or hanging out. He shared his desire to steal the road sign for the D Ave exit. He pointed out all the stars we could see through the sunroof of the Sprint. He held my hand, occasionally kissing it. He also wanted me to hear this great new single by one of his favorite bands. So streaking down 131 during our first real date, we laughed and learned the lyrics to a song declaring "Jesus was an architect, previous to his career as a prophet."
Enter Sandman, Metallica: it was a hit that year, and we would sing along at the top of our lungs on road trips out to the cottage in Bitely, the Sprint taking those tricky turns on two wheels. He was jealous that I went to see Metallica in Muskegon with Cara and Josh, one of the rare moments I would trump him on seeing a show.
Girlfriend, Matthew Sweet: Let me set the table: Superbowl, 1992. I have a huge ham dinner ready for the party. During halftime, Dave and I go off to serve it up and start making out instead, while the crazed drunks that were our friends ripped the ham apart with their hands. Meanwhile, I murmur the fateful words that send men into temporary insanity:
"I think I'm falling in love with you."
It took oh, 24 hours or less for him to break it off. Fabulous.
We made it through ten days of cold shoulders, dates with other people, and trying in vain not to miss each other. We reconciled in time for our Valentine's Day date to see Pauly Shore in concert. Sadly, my self-esteem had taken a beating by the initial rejection of his break up, and I wondered in the back of my mind if he made up with me just to go to the show. I proceeded gingerly, not willing to risk putting my heart out there for him to break.
He goes home for spring break, and I stay in town for work. He calls now and again to see what's going on in the ghost town. But then he would call back, sometimes not even a half hour later for no apparent reason. Befuddled, I asked "Why'd you call?"
His answer: "Matthew Sweet's Girlfriend video is on MTV.. and I, um, just wanted to hear your voice again."
Substitute, The Ramones: Yet another post-breakup reconciliation Valentine's Day concert date. I don't even know what set this one off, but the end of January just sucks. I do know that we had a going-away party for Cara, who was off for an internship at Disney and Dave showed up for the party even though we were no longer seeing each other. Since my bedroom was right next to the living room, I lay in bed seething as he played euchre at 3am, less than 5 feet away from me, separated by only a thin, crappy, makeshift wall.
I don't even remember how we reconciled, but all was right with the world in time for us to see Overwhelming Colorfast (garage band featured on a Stoli Rocks promo CD), Social Distortion, and the Ramones.
OC was ok, SD was amazing, but the Ramones were, ah, well...? I was enjoying the set until the hardcore audience members started pogoing and ripping up seats, while the mosh pit started tossing girls around like croutons in a chef salad. I came close to getting clocked with the back of a seat and honestly, the Ramones weren't that good. Dave protectively escorted me out of there before the full-on riot ensued, and by time the cops arrived, we were already at Woody's, enjoying a drink or two.
What 'Cha Gonna Do?, Pablo Cruise: the plight of the poor college student. No money to go out on a date, returnables taken back to pay the electric bill instead of getting beer, and me scraping together some coin so I could treat him to dinner. On the menu: a cheap bottle of wine, generic tuna helper cheesy noodle and pudding. Romantic!
Looking for a way to entertain ourselves and bored with our record collection, we listen to the everything-but-the-kitchen-sink offerings by local radio station WBRN. The DJ, also bored, pleads with his audience to call in requests. Thus starts non-stop phone calls to the station under various pseudo-names to request as many obnoxious pop hits as possible. The DJ is game, and starts playing the songs as fast as we can phone them in, the highlight being this disco tune that was inexplicably lodged in Dave's psyche.
The Freshman, The Verve Pipe: We spent a great number of our nights going to see this band play at various venues in West Michigan. They were mainstays on the bar scene, and in classic fashion, we bought their independent releases out of the trunk of their car, drank with the keyboardist, and saw our friend Jim fill in for a sick bassist. We also saw them one snowy night at Tom E's, with only 20 people in attendance during their art rock/R.E.M. phase, a projector throwing a loop of imagery on a back screen while sorority girls danced on the banquette. They went on to win Aris Hampers' WKLQ hometown rock search, which got them a recording contract. The Freshman peaked on the top 40 the same week we got married in 1997. It was old news to us, having sung along to the song as early as 1992. They are the band I have seen the most in concert, the 1,000,000th time last summer with Will at a kids' show at the library.
This list only got us part of the way! There's more stories to be told...
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