By Courtney Pierce
When I think of the word sacred, images flash in my
mind of religious artifacts, artwork, music, and holy sites throughout
the world. But those are what we’ve been taught to us to deem as sacred.
Humans are
quite magical beings, so this is the time to look deep within ourselves to find
the inner light to carry forward into the New Year. Spirituality sets our moral
compass, amplifies empathy for others, and inspires us to make a unique contribution
in the world.
In addition to the Christmas holiday itself, this is the time
of year when I take stock of all the opportunities I had to say and do the
right thing. I think I did a pretty good job, but I always think I can do better. I have so much to be grateful for, especially when I look into “way
back machine” of my childhood. Millions of kids didn't enjoy the safety and expression I did.
I appreciate the freedom I had to be a kid sixties,
especially at Christmas. There were no smartphones or computers to dumb us down. Instead,
we had television and lots of dangerous toys that tended to explode, catch fire, or warn of death should we swallow those small parts.
At the age of nine, I peeked at the presents in a special closet,
excited about the potential Christmas morning bounty. In return, I spent my allowance on silly
things that I thought my family would like, gag gifts mostly. My father earned
the honor of being the primary victim of our wicked senses of humor. He was an
easy target because he played so many practical jokes on us.
The Alpine aroma of a fresh Christmas tree filled the whole
house, topped with sugary layers of baking gingerbread and chocolate chip cookies.
The special holiday albums spun on the turntable, punctuated by skips and scratches:
Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, and Burl Ives for my parents; and Motown, John
Denver, and The Beach Boys for my older sister and me. My younger sister was just a baby, so she didn't count.
I bought my older sister The Beatles White Album. She
bought me Paul Revere and the Raiders. The Turtles fit in there somewhere, but
I think I bought that one for myself.
Back in 1961, we lived in a three-story Victorian in Cohasset, Massachusetts. The Cowsills were scheduled to play at the Music Circus, a local outdoor venue within walking distance from our house. There we no hotels nearby, so my parents volunteered the three bedrooms of our third floor for them to spend the night while the band was in town. In exchange, our family received tickets to the show. It all seemed so glamourous and exciting.
I still hold the Cowsills (now in their seventies with a few deceased) in high regard because they were my introduction to achieving much more in life than the norm. While their notoriety was brief and soon forgotten, the Cowsill kids held the most vulnerable time of my youth in their hands. That was over fifty years ago, but I still remember every detail--the sweet fragrance their Mom, Barbara, wore, the way Bill flipped his hair out of his eyes, and how Susan's freshly pressed dress seemed picture perfect. The Cowsills will never know how much they influenced my 28-year career in the Broadway entertainment business.
Fast forward to 2011. My vicarious experience of childhood
fame shattered when I watched a disturbing documentary about the Cowsills, titled Family Band: The Cowsills Story. As it turns out, those kids were psychologically
and physically abused by their father. He also stole their money, leaving the kids penniless after all their hard work and sacrifice. I had no idea what they went through on
their road to momentary stardom. I had been just a star-struck kid with a big imagination. I still play their music every so often, but now I listen through different ears. As it turns out, they envied kids like me, not the other way around.
I will hold forever that time as sacred, because I learned so much from the disillusionment of it.
I think we Boomers held many musicians in our hearts on our journey
to adulthood. In many ways, rock bands connected to us in ways our parents couldn’t or
wouldn’t: The Beatles, T-Rex, Yes, Crosby Stills Nash and Young, The Rolling Stones,
The Who, The Moody Blues, Bob Dylan, Fleetwood Mac, and David Bowie. I could go
on and on. I left out so many that graced the needle on my turntable. Some ended up as good; others vetted out as bad in retrospect.
I saw the many different sides of famous people.
So many have passed away now, a reminder they were just human, not larger than life. Hal Prince was a legend (producer of Phantom of the Opera and many others). I never saw him without his glasses perched on his head. Micky Rooney was a delight as we talked in a littered alleyway behind a theatre in Boston. Natasha Richardson of Cabaret fame was a sweetheart, taken too young in a tragic skiing accident. Tony Bennett was shorter than me at five-foot-three. I met Davy Jones before he, too. passed away. I hate to red-pill the boomers, but I can verify The Monkey's didn't play their own instruments, The real musicians were backstage. Andrew Lloyd Webber was a bit weird, but as producers go Hal Prince is still my favorite. Paul Simon wasn't so nice. Just sayin'. . .
All of my brushes with notable people were moments that I'll treasure for the rest of my life.
But nothing compares to my experiences in the 1960s. It was a decade where I felt so fresh and free. Now in retirement, I want to work hard to get back those feelings, both for me, my family, and our country.
Freedom.
The word is the most sacred to me now, because I never thought there would be a risk of losing it in my lifetime.
As we wrap up this topsy-turvy year, it's the people who've graced my world that keep me centered and focused. I could lose all my worldly goods in a heartbeat, but nothing can take away my experiences and the closeness with the people in my life.
Courtney Pierce is a fiction writer living in Kalispell, Montana with her husband and stepdaughter. She writes for the baby boomer audience. She spent 28 years as an executive in the entertainment industry and used her time in a theater seat to create stories that are filled with heart, humor, and mystery. She studied craft and storytelling at the Attic Institute and has completed the Hawthorne Fellows Program for writing and publishing. Active in the writing community, Courtney is a board member of the Northwest Independent Writers Association and on the Advisory Council of the Independent Publishing Resource Center. She is a member of Willamette Writers, Pacific Northwest Writers Association, and Authors of the Flathead. The Executrix received the Library Journal Self-E recommendation seal. Print and E-books are available through most major online retailers, including Amazon.com. Check out all of Courtney's books:
New York Times best-selling author Karen Karbo says, "Courtney Pierce spins a madcap tale of family grudges, sisterly love, unexpected romance, mysterious mobsters and dog love. Reading Indigo Lake is like drinking champagne with a chaser of Mountain Dew. Pure Delight."
Coming in 2022!
When Aubrey Cenderon moves to Montana after the death of her father, the peace and quiet of Big Sky Country becomes complicated with a knock on the door from the sheriff. An injured grizzly bear is on the loose and it must be eliminated before it kills again. The sheriff's insistence that she buy a gun for protection will present Aubrey with some serious soul-searching, because the grizzly-on-the-run is hunting her too . . . for a different reason.
3 comments:
Courtney, I watched most of the movie on The Temptations so I can relate to what you shared about the Cowsills although I never met either group. So much tragedy and yet such great music.
I got married in the 1960's, my son was born in the same decade. There was no such thing as domestic violence or sexual harassment much less the protections for children via child abuse laws. When I went to the police after being hit by my husband, I was told to go home and that I "belonged" to him.
While I can see why that time in your life was special to you and thus why you'd like to return to those days, there are those of us who may remember and love the music, movies and sights and sounds of that decade but would not want to relive it as you do.
I loved this post, Courtney! I do grew up in the 1960's. I was not as effected by celebrity as you were as we didn't have a TV until 1964, the year I turned ten. At that time, the big group was the Beatles. My memory is deciding not to like them because girls acted so "stupid" when hearing them. Even at the age of ten, I couldn't image fainting for a band--no matter how cute they were or how good their music.
It wasn't until well into adulthood that I came to treasure their music. As you are an entertainment person, if you haven't already seen the Peter Jackson's six-hour Beatles documentary, I highly recommend it. It does give real insight into the people who surround a big act and the work and frustrations of working together.
As I watched it I thought: "This is a great example of people with different needs and ideas about how to move forward working it out to benefit the group." There were times a member would literally quit the band and then after much discussion and review would return. Although they didn't end up staying together as a band, they did remain friends and truly cared for each other.
Working with others is hard. Putting aside differences to reach a compromise that gives everyone something they need is hard. Putting aside anger, apologizing for hurt, and still retaining trust is hard. But these are all things we must work on every day in our life to maintain our relationships--both on a very personal level and on a community level.
There are days I would love to return to the naivete of my childhood--the belief that I was 100% safe and loved and nothing could change that. However, the work of making that happen knowing all the possibilities of failure is that much more rewarding when I succeed. That work is sacred to me, and it sounds like it is to you as well.
Thanks again for this lovely post!
Beautiful post, Courtney. I was also a child of the 60s, and that music is sacred to me, also. So sad that the musicians' lives had a dark side, too.
And I'm with you on the freedom thing--our biggest job in the coming year is to keep democracy alive.
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