Disco Fever, or the power of iron-on t-shirt slogans
Welcome to my inaugural blog! I don't actually know if that's the correct use of the word "inaugural", or even if I spelled it right, but I liked the presidential zip that it gives my post. A good way to start, don't you think?
I've been mulling over the idea of posting a blog for a while, but finally got up the gumption to do it when I learned one of my cousins has been posting his own for the last month. Stuart is at least ten years older than me, and someone I revered growing up. Well, revered may not be the right word. But there was something about Stuart, and Doug and Ann (his brother and sister) that I gobbled up. They were like the older, cooler brothers and sister I never had (I'm the oldest of two). On several occasions when I was younger (much younger), Doug and Stu (and maybe even Ann!) would chase me around the hour or the yard, taunting me and nipping at my heels until I was completely wasted and breathless. Then, having utterly exhausted me, they would proceed to give me an atomic wedgie of epic proportions. I was humiliated and yet strangely enjoyed their attention.
When I was seven or so, one of my birthday presents was a maroon iron-on t-shirt that I was immensely proud of. This was a t-shirt that I customized and designed myself at the mall, as was the fashion of the day. The decal on the front of the t-shirt was a roller skate, viewed from the front and appearing for all purposes to be on a collision course with the viewer. The graceful arc of a rainbow floated over the skate. Underneath this image was a slogan - Disco Fever, I believe. My name, in the form of big iron-on letters, was emblazoned across my back. And the detail that absolutely made the t-shirt for me - the reason I loved it - were a pair of white, majestic wings that stretched from either side of the skate like a bird in flight. In retrospect, what a surreal detail! But at the time, it was perfect. I loved the t-shirt, not so much for the disco sentiments, but because I was an avid roller skater at the time, and that winged skate captured my passion in a way that nothing else could or did.
And so it was, one day, that my family drove to Madison to visit the family. It must've been shortly after my birthday, because I was proudly sporting my maroon t-shirt. And please understand, I was proud of the t-shirt, but I was not about to go bragging about it to anyone...I was content to let the incredible image of the winged skate underneat a rainbow speak skating's virtues for itself. But no sooner had I walked through the door than Doug or Stu, I don't recall which), took my t-shirt in with a glance and asked me, in that older-brother, slightly bemused way, "Hey, Mike, you like disco?" It wasn't a question so much as an accusation. As soon as the words were spoken, it occured to me that I hadn't given more than a moment's thought to this phenomenon called disco. And yet, there it was, sallying forth from my shirt like some battle cry -- Disco Fever! I was immediately caught off guard and embarrassed. I don't recall if Doug or Stu actually said that Disco SUCKED, although the implication was certainly clear. I was simply left to rethink the wisdom of my iron-on selection, and to ponder the implications of wearing slogans one did not properly heed.
On another, more current note, tonight Nicky and Stephanie and I went to Eagle Point Park to grill some burgers and chicken breasts. The weather was perfect - cool, with an utter lack of humidity. The sun was starting to hit that particular angle where the light slants through the trees at such an angle that the grass looks brilliant green and the light itself is warm and inviting and everything looks like a postcard. I brought some home-made guacamole, which all three of us devoured as we waited for the burgers and chicken to cook. And as we waited, and nibbled on appetizers, it occured to me that the time spent waiting for the meat to cook was always the best part of the meal. At least when we're grilling. Because it's that time when you're focused, and yet free. Focused on a task I enjoy, and yet free to socialize, or shoot the breeze, or whatever. I'm I'm too consumed in a task, I can't socialize. It's not in me. But if I have nothing to focus on, I get crabby. And so grilling, it seems to me, is in some way a weird Zen-like thing for me, by which I can focus and not focus, relax and concentrate at the same time. Is this complete crap? Probably. Do I know anything about Zen? Absolutely not. But it makes a certain kind of sense to me!
And beyond all this zen hocus pocus, I just love Eagle Point Park. It's one of my favorite places in Dubuque, and certainly holds a special place in my heart. Maybe in another blog I'll actually elaborate on what I like so much about it. But not tonight. Suffice it to say that good friends, food on the grill, and Eagle Point Park = happiness. Simple pleasures.
I've been mulling over the idea of posting a blog for a while, but finally got up the gumption to do it when I learned one of my cousins has been posting his own for the last month. Stuart is at least ten years older than me, and someone I revered growing up. Well, revered may not be the right word. But there was something about Stuart, and Doug and Ann (his brother and sister) that I gobbled up. They were like the older, cooler brothers and sister I never had (I'm the oldest of two). On several occasions when I was younger (much younger), Doug and Stu (and maybe even Ann!) would chase me around the hour or the yard, taunting me and nipping at my heels until I was completely wasted and breathless. Then, having utterly exhausted me, they would proceed to give me an atomic wedgie of epic proportions. I was humiliated and yet strangely enjoyed their attention.
When I was seven or so, one of my birthday presents was a maroon iron-on t-shirt that I was immensely proud of. This was a t-shirt that I customized and designed myself at the mall, as was the fashion of the day. The decal on the front of the t-shirt was a roller skate, viewed from the front and appearing for all purposes to be on a collision course with the viewer. The graceful arc of a rainbow floated over the skate. Underneath this image was a slogan - Disco Fever, I believe. My name, in the form of big iron-on letters, was emblazoned across my back. And the detail that absolutely made the t-shirt for me - the reason I loved it - were a pair of white, majestic wings that stretched from either side of the skate like a bird in flight. In retrospect, what a surreal detail! But at the time, it was perfect. I loved the t-shirt, not so much for the disco sentiments, but because I was an avid roller skater at the time, and that winged skate captured my passion in a way that nothing else could or did.
And so it was, one day, that my family drove to Madison to visit the family. It must've been shortly after my birthday, because I was proudly sporting my maroon t-shirt. And please understand, I was proud of the t-shirt, but I was not about to go bragging about it to anyone...I was content to let the incredible image of the winged skate underneat a rainbow speak skating's virtues for itself. But no sooner had I walked through the door than Doug or Stu, I don't recall which), took my t-shirt in with a glance and asked me, in that older-brother, slightly bemused way, "Hey, Mike, you like disco?" It wasn't a question so much as an accusation. As soon as the words were spoken, it occured to me that I hadn't given more than a moment's thought to this phenomenon called disco. And yet, there it was, sallying forth from my shirt like some battle cry -- Disco Fever! I was immediately caught off guard and embarrassed. I don't recall if Doug or Stu actually said that Disco SUCKED, although the implication was certainly clear. I was simply left to rethink the wisdom of my iron-on selection, and to ponder the implications of wearing slogans one did not properly heed.
On another, more current note, tonight Nicky and Stephanie and I went to Eagle Point Park to grill some burgers and chicken breasts. The weather was perfect - cool, with an utter lack of humidity. The sun was starting to hit that particular angle where the light slants through the trees at such an angle that the grass looks brilliant green and the light itself is warm and inviting and everything looks like a postcard. I brought some home-made guacamole, which all three of us devoured as we waited for the burgers and chicken to cook. And as we waited, and nibbled on appetizers, it occured to me that the time spent waiting for the meat to cook was always the best part of the meal. At least when we're grilling. Because it's that time when you're focused, and yet free. Focused on a task I enjoy, and yet free to socialize, or shoot the breeze, or whatever. I'm I'm too consumed in a task, I can't socialize. It's not in me. But if I have nothing to focus on, I get crabby. And so grilling, it seems to me, is in some way a weird Zen-like thing for me, by which I can focus and not focus, relax and concentrate at the same time. Is this complete crap? Probably. Do I know anything about Zen? Absolutely not. But it makes a certain kind of sense to me!
And beyond all this zen hocus pocus, I just love Eagle Point Park. It's one of my favorite places in Dubuque, and certainly holds a special place in my heart. Maybe in another blog I'll actually elaborate on what I like so much about it. But not tonight. Suffice it to say that good friends, food on the grill, and Eagle Point Park = happiness. Simple pleasures.
posted by Mike Willis @ 10:25 PM
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