Remember the days when you firmly believed that something huge was right around the corner? Remember when you thought you could make it happen? Remember what inspired you to feel that way? No? Neither did I--and then I had the memory thrust upon me--in a chain bookstore, of all places.

I was shopping in Borders the other night--double "ouch"--not only is it a heinous "books, music, 'n' coffee" chain that I try to eschew in favor of independent book and/or music stores, but I used to work there. On second thought, make that a triple "ouch," because I was shopping there on a weekend evening. Where have my bar hopping days gone?

In any case, I was walking through the store when I had one of those "I'm an old fart" moments. It wasn't because I was shopping at a heinous retail chain instead of my local independent music store where at any given time a litter of kittens is being birthed in a kicked-over box of Poison T-shirts that hadn't been moved out of the corner for about 20 years. Nor was it because I was shopping on a weekend evening instead of being "out" somewhere.

It was this: Like many people, for quite a long time I have intended to buy CDs of my favorite albums that I have only on vinyl. I won't say "replace," because I would NEVER give up my vinyl. However, since I do a great deal of my music listening in the car, and since records tend to skip and scratch when you drive over a bump, I decided I should get all my favorite music on "pothole ready" CDs.

I got as far as two of my favorite Beatles albums (Rubber Soul and A Hard Day's Night), then gave up when I found out that Style Council's My Ever Changing Moods is not on CD--the horror! Yet what was this before me in Borders' "music 'n' video stuff" department, on a sale rack, but a classic of the '80s on CD for only $7.99?

I can't quite describe the feeling of seeing the black, white, and red cover of U2's War shrunk down to CD size. It was like falling down the rabbit hole, where everything is slightly familiar, but not quite the same. Cats disappear except for their smile, and the glaring face of the legendary annoying kid from the band members' neighborhood shrinks to several inches high.

The album, however, remains one of my all-time favorites, so I turned over my money to "the Man"--abetting the plans of bookstore chains for world domination and elimination of free will and freedom of choice (hey . . . Devo . . . gotta get that too . . . )--and walked out with the miniature version of War.

I've been playing it for days and have no intention of switching CDs yet.

I remember listening to War in my college dorm room a lot, blasting it until the windows rattled. I found myself doing the same in my car (but my Jeep's plastic windows cut down on the rattling)--I just kept turning it up more and more with each song. I didn't realize how loud it was until I got out of my car, left it running, shut the door, and could still hear the music quite clearly.

What an album--10 songs, and even the eight that didn't become all-time classic hits are killer. Sure, you've got the blood-stirring war drums of "Sunday Bloody Sunday" and Bono's soaring wail starting off "New Year's Day", but when was the last time you gave a listen to "The Refugee" with the (all together now...) "Whoa, oh, oh" chant peppering the verses, the soul-stirring "Two Hearts Beat As One" or the touching "Drowning Man" ("Take my hand/You know I'll be there if you can/I'll cross the sky for your love")?

Yes, I felt old when I saw the CD. I felt old when I bought it, waiting for the pierced-and-tattooed young 'un behind the counter to snicker because I was purchasing that instead of a CD by the latest pierced-and-tattooed band I've only vaguely heard of. However, I didn't feel old when the music started to play. Instead, I felt the way I did when I first heard the album years ago.

You know what it is. It's that swell of passion and excitement bubbling up in your abdomen that means you've just come across something that stirs your blood and makes you feel alive.

When I heard War for the first time that swell inside of me just about burst and I wanted to run, jump, and sing (okay, so I did sing along--really loud–every time.) Most of all it made me want to DO SOMETHING with my life--something that would create as much passion as I was feeling right then.

It doesn't have to be that particular album or band that elicits that response, though. Everyone has a different sound, a different band, a different album that "gets you." What's yours? Do me a favor--go get it. Put it in the CD player or on the turntable and crank it up. Do you feel that bubble in your abdomen? Do you feel what you felt years ago--that you had just discovered something huge that was making you feel you had to go do something big, RIGHT NOW?

Got it? Feel it? Hang onto it. Now go do something big--RIGHT NOW--before that "old fart" feeling comes back and you end up buying the latest Yanni greatest-hits collection at Borders on a Saturday night.

 

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Jayne Denker is a thirty something writer who will work on just about any writing assignment, anyplace, anytime as long as it's something nifty associated with pop culture--especially GenX, of course--and/or entertainment. She is actually employed full time as a web content manager but also fills any free time she may happen to find on her hands with freelance writing assignments to offset the "manager" nonsense. Jayne lives with her husband and three psycho kitties (qu'est que c'est) in quite a small lakeside cottage in western New York state. When she's not writing or "managing," she enjoys loafing/watching movies, cleaning up after the psycho kitties, designing web sites, reading, and making magic. E-mail