SUMMER 1984

I was 11, getting very deep into music and although I had only been playing for a year, I was hooked on drums as well. Around this time I also have clear memories of warm weather, being up at the lake enjoying time with my cousins, fishing, rowing around, and camping out in a tent in the woods for the first time. My soundtrack was the radio, and armed with my somewhat portable “boombox” and my bike, I also rode around the neighborhood in my hometown with my buddies like we didn’t have a care in the world. We didn’t. We biked to the corner store and bought candy, gum, Slush Puppy frozen drinks and Topp’s baseball cards. We obsessed over Red Sox games on the radio at night, while we listened to memorize statistics on our Walkman speakers. We debated over who should make the All-Star team and why the Yankees sucked. My favorite player by far was Jim Rice, and some new kid named Roger Clemens who had a helluva fastball and a nasty curve. I can still tell you a good chunk of the Sox lineup that summer, although I will spare you here. (outfield L-R: Rice, Armas, Evans. BIG bats.)

The soundtrack in my head is still clear as day: When Doves Cry by Prince was everywhere that summer and although I hated it then, I find it to be a brilliant track today. I also soaked up Dancing in the Dark by Springsteen, as well as the entire 1984 album by Van Halen, Pyromania by Def Leppard, Magic, by The Cars (which, aside from the vocals, had the same producer as the Def Leppard album….so if you listen close, both albums sound suspiciously alike.) My formative pop summer also saw me wearing out the cassette to side one of Frontiers by Journey (you know…..Separate Ways, Faithfully and a whole bunch of tunes on side two that no one ever played), Styx – Kilroy Was Here and the new album in 1984 by Billy Squier (remember him?) called Signs of Life. I wore that tape out as well.

I remember being outside all day everyday, visiting the inside of my house only for meals and snacks or to possibly grab a piece of sports gear such as a ball, bat and glove and/or a badminton racket. We played badminton on the street and used an electric wire between two poles as the top of the net. We played hide and seek in the dark while chasing lightning bugs to catch in jars. We had too much ice cream. We went to the movies to see Ghostbusters (three times) and Gremlins as well as The Karate Kid. Too young to see the Purple Rain movie by Prince, we obsessed about the video on MTV and wondered why anyone would take a girl for a ride on the back of a motorcycle in the rain. We knew it must be somehow cool, but, being just a little too young to understand “grown up relationships”, we couldn’t put it all together. There were several videos on MTV by Madonna and artists like her that made us feel “different” in a warm, fuzzy sort of way, but the birds and the bees were still a little ways off.

The Olympics were held in Los Angeles in the summer of ’84, and although the U.S.S.R. boycotted the games, we were all treated to the cuteness and kick ass athleticism of gymnast Mary Lou Retton, as she scored a perfect 10 on her final vault, becoming the first American woman to win an Olympic gymnastics gold medal. Later that summer, she hit the pinnacle with her image on a box of Wheaties cereal, which was a HUGE deal for athletes of the time.

The summer of 1984 holds nothing for me except fun, pure memories of being entrenched in the joys of childhood. I’m sure we had water fights, squirt gun ambushes and ate a lot of boxes of Kraft Mac-n-Cheese. The energy of being 11 and the stupidity of youth made anything seem possible. I still had all four grandparents, and my family was clicking along in the middle class box that my father’s job at IBM put us squarely into. I can’t quite remember if high top sneakers were a thing yet, but I was definitely reading Hit Parader magazine to catch up on my musical interests as well as listening to anyone and everyone around me to see what was funny. Yes, I ran my big mouth even back then.

Looking back, it was my most joyous summer of innocence that would not be trumped until I had my license years later and started playing in rock bands, going to shows, and becoming very interested in girls, as well as many more MTV videos that couldn’t be made today, let alone actually aired on the network.

Summer of 1984 was also the last summer that I enjoyed before noticing that walking long distances and climbing stairs was causing my legs to ache, and sometimes my shoulders too. In the fall of that year, I entered 6th grade, and on the first day, as I walked a quarter of a mile, mostly downhill, to my neighborhood elementary school, my backpack and lunch felt unusually heavy on my back as my shoulders and legs hurt like hell. I did what every 11 year old kid would do at that point: I ignored it. Time, and nature’s plan for my body would only let me ignore it for a few more months as teachers at school as well as my family began to think there was something seriously wrong with me.

The summer of 1985 saw me being more cautious as I walked on uneven terrain outside. It saw me ride my bike less, and worry about entering junior high school where all 5 town elementary schools fed into one big building. The summer of 1985 found me “sometimes” walking on my toes, getting very fatigued from swimming in the lake or being in the water too long, and also had my relatives whispering to each other over the phone in conversations that I wasn’t supposed to hear. I do not remember any music from that summer, but I do remember begging my mother to NOT have me take swim lessons at a local pond where my sister and I had taken them before. I don’t remember if I won the argument or not.

I remember being in a hospital in Boston for an entire WEEK in July of 1985 while doctors ran all sorts of tests on my nerves, bones and muscles, culminating in a muscle biopsy of my left leg in two places: thigh and side of calf. I was under full anesthesia and was told that a small slice of my muscle tissue would be removed from both places and studied under a microscope to look and see if my tissue was unhealthy. Weeks later, after recovering on crutches while my entire leg stayed wrapped in a huge Ace bandage, my parents were told that I had a form of muscular dystrophy. I wasn’t told anything at first while my parents reeled from the news and only knew what MD even was because of comedian Jerry Lewis and his famous Labor Day telethons used to raise money and buy wheelchairs for sick kids.

Quickly, I began having a physical therapist come to the house once a week to “stretch me” and my parents began an active stretching regime on me that took place before school, after school and before bed. I was fitted for fiberglass “night splints”, which were removable casts that ran toe to thigh on both legs. I would wear these every night until college or when I stopped growing. I took trips into Boston every 6 months for new splints and to get timed while walking down the hall, getting up from the floor, and climbing stairs. I thought it was all stupid, but for some reason, I didn’t worry about the future. Maybe I was dumb, naive or both. The doctors told my parents that there was no cure or treatment for this, that I would eventually need to use a wheelchair, and would likely die young due to heart and lung complications. I was told none of this. I have written about this before, but I credit my parents for setting up my lifelong “damn the torpedoes” attitude that I carry with me to this day. I have blown through so many doctor stop signs that I don’t worry about the future…..too much.

Forty years ago, it was the summer of 1984. Ice cream, music, sun, and fun. Thirty nine years ago, my life was shattered forever. I was 11, and then 12. Forced to deal with some issues that no kid should ever have to go through, I grew up fast, at least in the way of doctors and medical jargon. All things being equal, both summers taught me a lot about life, balance, happiness, and what is important each day:

Ice cream and Prince, with a splash of lake swimming, a baseball game on the radio, some tunes and a relaxing summer day. Say it with me now: This is what it sounds like……when Doves FLY. Damn I wish I still had my cassette tapes.

Stay awesome, stay safe, stay tuned and God Bless the 80’s.