Hott Tickets! 

For a few years when I was a kid, my family would spend one week each summer at a rustic little resort in the Catskill Mountains called Glenbrook Farms. There were other families too, only none of the kids were my age, or if they were, they were girls and of almost no use to me. So I’d spend all day wandering around or whining while my sisters, who are three and six years older than me, hung around with all the kids they’d met. One summer, I believe it was 1987, my oldest sister met her first boyfriend, Ricky. On the morning of the day everyone was getting ready to head back home, all the kids, from the teenagers on down to nine-year-old me, were sitting in one of the families’ rooms, not exactly saying final goodbyes, more just waiting quietly for the parents to come in and say it was time to get in the car. Someone, I still don’t remember who, walked over to a boombox and pressed play on a tape containing the song ‘Only You’ by Yaz. Not even a minute into the song, everyone started crying. My sisters, the other girls, the dudes even. I don’t know if, while I was walking around complaining that I had nothing to do, it had become the official theme song for the week, or maybe it just meant something to my sister and Ricky, and everyone understood. I was sitting on the floor next to one of the beds, and I remember trying to force myself to cry because, even then, it seemed awesome to me that a song, a cheesy synth-pop ballad, even, could have such an effect on an entire room. They’re playing in the city pretty much all week. You should go. And bring some tissues. (Oh my god, I really need a blog.)


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