I think I liked Melanie because her hair had a slight bit of curl which I might have envied although this was the era of slick, stick-straight, part-down-the-center, the-longer-the-better 1970s hair. Melanie showed up in the middle of Beowulf one day in English class. No, she wasn’t monster hunting, she brought me from the midst of the tale wondering about feasts, Danes, and funeral pyres.
“I like that skirt. Come to my house later. My room is so keen,” she said.
It was the 1970s, but Melanie was the first free spirit I had ever met, wearing small flowers interwoven into her hair. Her parents were bonafide hippies, younger and cooler than mine. Her world was filled with colors of the 70s, avocado green, harvest gold, orange and purple, beaded curtains and rugs shaped like feet. Melanie had a brown guitar that she had learned to play from her dad. He used to laugh and say, “I’ll be your manager someday.”
The 1973 Jr. High Talent Show competition advertisement captured vibrant Melanie’s attention on an ordinary Friday afternoon. She found me at the bike rack, unchaining my bike, getting ready to go home after school.
“Hey you, look at this!” she said.
She shoved the flyer at me. Melanie might have been Stevie Nicks if the stars had been aligned properly, you know the timing and all that. I could see that she loved the spotlight.
“So we can do something, right? I’ll play the guitar,” she said.
“Um, I don’t play anything,” I replied.
“It’s fine, you can sing,” said Melanie.
“What songs do you know besides Proud Mary?” I asked.
“Well I know that one, and…well, we’ll see,” she said.
Proud Mary. This was back when Ike and Tina Turner had the Revue. Melanie apparently liked the idea of floating away on a river, so she got out her guitar, and I hauled out every apprehensive nerve in my body then we met with her dad, the Music Man. She strummed. He interjected. “Timing a little off…better transition there….no, that’s a B minor for sure.” Then the focus went to me. “Alright, we’re ready for you to sing,” he said.
After learning what an intro was, I tried to channel my inner Tina. “Left a good job in the city….” and started out strong. Melanie strumming. Manager Dad humming. I was like a Book Nerd masquerading as a blonde Cher. “Workin’ for the man…” then all of a sudden I actually heard myself singing. And I sounded WEIRD. So I stopped.
“What?” asked Melanie.
“Yeah?” asked Music Dad.
“I ummm…. does it sound…?”
“No, go on,” said her dad.
“Left a good job in the CitEEE, workin’ for the man every night and day….”
“Now what?” asked Melanie.
“Keep going!” said Music Dad.
“Uh, I think I might need to go home now. I just remembered something I needed to do,” I said.
“Ok then, let’s shoot for tomorrow,” said Melanie’s dad.
Next day we tried to pick it up at least to the point of where I could finally get rolling on the river, but somehow I could never even make it to cleaning those plates in Memphis or pumping any pane because every single time after that first stanza when my brain heard the voice coming from my mouth, the trauma was too much to go on.
“Oh come on!” Melanie would admonish me looking like she was born to do this in those flared bell bottoms.
“Je…SUS, just keep going,” her dad would say before he finally lost patience over us taking that gold medal in the junior high talent show.
I couldn’t quite figure out the problem. I guess I actually expected Tina’s strong vibes would spill out of my mouth just like on the radio. Then I had a vision of people actually looking at me. I wanted to ask Melanie if I could stand behind a screen or something, but her patience was running thin with me, so she picked up her guitar and learned to play Yesterday Once More, but without the vocals.
We soon got past her musical aspirations and on to riding bikes, giggling over boys and playing crazy long games of tennis.
Junior high was alive with possibilities, seething with young teens navigating the social order, and me with a friend who was way too cool. Then just like that, one day in the middle of The Count of Monte Cristo, Melanie vanished in that hippy-drifter sort of way. She was not at school. As I meticulously read of Dantes meting out his revenge, kids were saying that Melanie had checked out of school. She had mentioned casually one time that her family might move, but never really clarified it.
I went by her house on my bike after school. Everything was dark within, no cars, no lights, bare driveway. Nobody was there, day after day. I didn’t have a best friend for a long time after Melanie left, and for a while, Proud Mary rolled right out of my thoughts. Then, later on, I would hear: “If you go down to the river, bet you’re gonna find some people who live….” and I would think of Melanie and how she tried to bestow upon me self-confidence belted out in the form of a leggy Tina Turner. Then I would wonder just where Melanie went with that brown guitar and if she thinks of me when Proud Mary blasts the airwaves and Tina reaches out, first easy, then rough, like that crazy river of life that sometimes drowns us and it rolls onward.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hzQnPz6TpGc
Reblogged this on John Cowgill's Literature Site.
Thanks, John!
YOU are very graciously welcome.
Great story!
Thank you, Jennie!
Most welcome!
we expect to see the YouTube vid very soon to see you sing a newer rendition of Tina.
But of course, Jim. I know my public would expect nothing less. I’m in the process of picking out fishnet stockings right at this very moment! 😀
now you really have my attention. you Texas ladies are something else 😉
Oh yes, and we don’t spend time worrying about the way things might have been, lol.
Where have all the Melanies gone? Those darn fly-by-night hippies driving off in their VW vans! What a fun read, Lana. The protagonist’s inability to sing more than a line or two in front of her tiny audience resonated with me. I’ve always dreamed I’d be one of those shy singers that belts it out on America’s Got Talent and completely flabbergasts Simon Cowell, like Susan Boyle. But since I can’t work up the nerve to sing on Karaoke Night, I am destined to remain a legend in my own mind. 🙂
I’m right there with you, Joan. A legend in my own mind, lol. I know, those darn fly-by-night hippies steal your heart then take off like that. I’m always gonna wonder what happened to her. Maybe Music Dad was in the mob? The Texas Mob, lol!
I love this. What a look not only at the time, but the strangeness of junior high, or friendships that came and went, the insecurities. It’s odd that she didn’t say goodbye. That would have hurt my feelings, and like you, I would have wondered for a long time. Great story, Lana.
Thanks, Diana. It is truly odd that she didn’t say goodbye. And it made an impact because I still think about it to this day. The good thing about junior high though is that there are usually new friends lurking right around the corner. That’s when I started hanging around with Pam. But that’s another story (wink, wink). 😀
It is those brief friendships that sometimes make us better people. I had a few growing up. Glad the song brings back good memories for you in spite of the loss of her friendship.
Those were the days! Yes, and where have all the flowers gone? Melanie is probably still way too cool in her mature years.
https://youtu.be/zwzpijdM3KA
The good old days. Loved this Lana! <3
Thanks, Debby! 😀
🙂
Wow. That was beautiful. Thanks
Thank you
Wish making friends were still as easy as it was when I was a kid! It was so effortless compared to how you get to know new people nowadays.
And I totally get that singing behind a screen thing! 😂 I bet so many would love that.
Lovely story, Lana, one that will stay with me. 😊 xoxo
It has surely stayed with me Sarah as junior high was at least two years ago (hahahahahaha!!) There are still times when I think about her and just wonder where in the heck she went and if she ever became a musician. Thanks so much, Sarah. xoxoxo
Did you try to Google her? Although of course she could have married and changed her name… It’s sad how sometimes we get out of touch with friends, I have a couple of those too. Googling them didn’t work for me though. 🙁
I can’t remember her last name or else I surely would have. You are right, sometimes Google doesn’t work even if you know their names.