First Crushes

I don't know too many 13 year old girls, in fact, I know none personally. Last night though I got a performance out of one while she bugged her Mom incessantly to take her to Randall Island's Panorama Music Festival. I had sat down by the keg to refill the cup and got pulled into the conversation.

“But MOM! Sufjan Stevens is SOOO cool! We HAFTA go!”

“Sufjan Stevens?” I thought. I then ask, “Who is Sufjan Stevens?” Before Mom can answer me, the girl cuts her off.

“You don't know who Sufjan Stevens is?”

“No, do you know who Stevie Nicks is?” I counter.

“Who's he?”

East is east, West is west and never shall the two meet.

Sufjan, I'm told, does “lo-fi folk” music. Shit, I'm so out of touch with what's coming out now. Then again, I still burn CD's and am a nutty adherent to FLAC digital. I don't care how large the files are, I want to hear every rasp of the guitar pick. On top of that, I still listen to radio.

“Mom...you just don't understand! Sufjan's helped me sooo much with his songs. I agree with everything he has to say!” she goes on. “If...if only I could go..see him live...maybe even get close to the stage...or back of it...maybe....” as she trails off.

And then I get it. Here's a case of long distance puppy love and that fervent crush that girls of that age can feel. Her life will not be complete unless Sufjan Stevens gives her her first kiss, then marries her on the spot. I get it, I wanted to marry and give Kristy McNichol a thousand babies when I was that age.

Now that I have been drawn in, the daughter has to elicit my help in turning Mom's mind around. The problem was that Mom would have to take the Friday off for that upcoming weekend to do it. If she does, she loses out on $350 on some real estate deal.

“Well,” I tell the young girl, “if you can replace Mom's lost $350, you easily can get her to take that day off.”

The reality of that answer never really sunk in to her. She stared ahead, not quite getting the adult need to keep that money rolling in. It was the perfect answer to satisfy everyone, just get that lost income replaced. The problem was where was a 13 year old girl who babysits for a few $20's a weekend get that kind of cash?

Young minds, even if they don't grasp all of life yet, still can have epiphanies.

“Mom...I'll work if off...I can get $350!”

“By next February you might have it all.” says Mom.

“Arrrrgggh! You always have something negative to say!” the girl nearly shouts.

I have to ask, “Do you listen to anyone else? Do you like other music?”

Mom tells her and winks at me, “Take him, show him your room.”

So I'm led inside to her bedroom. It was what I thought it would be. It was lavender with every style of teddy bear piled on her bed. The bureau piled high with tween perfumes, mascara and more teddy bears.

On the walls, taped to the ceiling, where posters of Sufjan. On the nightstand, there were books, magazine articles clipped out or printed off her computer, all of Sufjan.

I was looking at a shrine.

I thought Sufjan was a might bit old for her. He looked like he was in his late 30's but then I remembered when I was 7^th grade, all the girls were giddy over a substitute teacher who sort of looked like Barry Gibbs back then. Swoon is the word I think.

She then shows me her latest find she printed out, Sufjan looking pensively into the sunset.

I might have had a stupid smile on my face as I was shown all this. I kept time warping back to when I was her age and my fascination over McNichol. I then sort of understood her devotion, although it's been decades since I felt this idolization.

We get back to the party outside and Mom asks me, “Well, what do you think? Understand it now?”

“Yeah, she's locked onto this guy and nothing will shake her off. If you take her to Randall Island, she might wash your car and do your laundry for two months straight.”

“We aren't spending $350 plus to see him. Gas, hotel, tickets, food...and God knows what else.” she says.

“If you take her, she might get it out of system, then again, she may latch onto someone else.”

Mom thinks, “Well, that's not my main worry now.”

“What is?” I'm clueless.

“I worry she'll latch onto a real, live 13 year old boy from her classroom that she can't stand to be away from.”

True dat.

In my defense, here's a pic of Kristy. No, I never met her backstage, got my first kiss and then had a thousand babies with her. Jesus, I do remember the crush. “God...she's...so...pretty!”