Last night the house was full of teenagers (for daughter’s significant teenage birthday). They watched movies, played Band Hero, sang and danced. Notes filtered down the hall.
What was that? Bohemian Rhapsody?
I strained to listen… Wake Me Up Before You Go Go. The Final Countdown. Video Killed the Radio Star.
Thirty years – and I could still remember every word. Gad, I felt old.
A chorus of squeals rolled into the room: “Tainted Love!” I raised an eyebrow.
Wait.
I wondered down the hall and peeked into the lounge room full of teens singing away.
What? Was I stuck in a time warp? I grew up with these songs. I remember when they first hit the charts. I spent hours making tape mixes to play while I did homework.
But why should I be surprised. The eighties had some great music. It was a fun time (before the stock market crash) – high school, university. No mortgage worries. No global warming. My whole life in front of me, to follow my dreams.
The teens laughed and danced and had a ball. I’m glad they’d discovered eighties pop. I’m glad they can experience the same carefree joy I did at that age. They have their whole life to come, to follow their dreams. Global warming, or not.
Let’s hope they learn from our mistakes and one day catch a glimpse their children bopping away to retro pop, and are reminded of how grand life can be.
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