Brat Pack

They say that smell is the one sense closest tied to memory. Can't refute that. Every time I smell cotton candy I'm immediately sent back in time to 6th grade where you will find me brushing my hair at my locker along with my fellow "glamour girls", applying my cotton candy Lipsmackers, and feeling so fly. But watch out smell. I do think you have a contender for "best linker to memories"... perhaps a better title is needed. BUT. I do believe music to be a worthy adversary.

If Jay-Z and Linkin Park urge me to get that dirt off my shoulder, then I suddenly find myself back in high school mentally prepping for a soccer game. I'm hit with a mix of confidence, excitement, nerves, and double dose of "Bring it on!".

If I'm driving down the rode and the radio DJ decides to send me back 10 years prior with "Drops of Jupiter", then I'm instantly back in 8th grade. I'm hanging out with Tommy, my junior high sweetheart, and the rest of the socially oriented youth of Wylie Junior High. We're congregating under the bleachers while the football team plays on. Sorry Pirates, none of us have a clue as to how you're fairing. We’re far too busy being melodramatic, awkward, and annoying.

Something Corporate, I’d love to be your “Punk Rock Princess”, but you should know that you remind me of how everyday senior year Andrew Brittan and I would urge Mrs. Blankenship and the rest of our trig class to silence themselves. It’s 12:34pm and we want everyone to prepare themselves for the upcoming, glorious moment. The second hand strikes “56”. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6… ahhhhh. Ok Blankenship, you may proceed with your teachings.

Tell me what you want, what you really really want... I’m in 4^th grade arguing with Lacy and Tracy about who gets to be Sporty Spice.

Lovely little lady. Everybody knows. Don’t know what to call her. But she’s lovely like a rose... I’m three. My mom is tucking me into bed.

So walk down this mountain with your heart held high. Follow in the footsteps of your maker. With this love that's gone before you and these people at your side. If you offer up your broken cup, you will taste the meaning of this life... I’m back in the mountains, at Rainbow Trail Lutheran Camp to be exact. I’m surrounded by incredible people, have a summer full of stories, and a smile warming my heart.

And then there’s that one guy. The guy who got me going on this in the first place. Oh Rocket Summer. You champion my musical memories. I have to agree with you when I think about the town I grew up in. Cause this ain’t where it’s at. My friends will second that. And I gotta admit sometimes it’s pretty sad. But it's like were our own brat pack. We're always kickin back. Nobody can take that. And that is that, it’s like its all we have.

I remember driving to Jack Johnson’s concert with Levi and my best gal pal Bailey. “Jenny do you like The Rocket Summer?” “Who?” I ask. They look at each. Look at me and say convincingly, “Jenny, you would love The Rocket Summer.” They know me well.

The Rocket Summer doesn’t confine my memories to just that adored couple.

He reminds me of weekends at The Swamp, a “house” where several of my friends resided after high school graduation. Sarah, Emily, Gary, Bailey, Levi, Michael, Daniel, Jack, and I gather around the bonfire in the backyard and play “Bang, Ah, Ah”.

He reminds me of driving around aimlessly with two of my best gal pals Erin and Natalie. Rockin it till it’s light, "fists in the air fighting the good fight".

So I'll run away to the hopes that I have. But still I fall asleep in the arms of my past. And when I wake so helpless and thinking of that. I just lay back down.

Again, everyday.

So maybe later today I'll know what I will do with my life as I know it. Maybe for now I'll drive back to that place where I belong and hope to God it hasn’t change.

No matter where I am. No matter what’s going on in my life. I’ll hear you, Rocket Summer, and BAM. Instant treasured memories. Instantly surrounded by treasured people. Instant happy.