Girlhood crushes

I thought I’d write about my celebrity crushes of childhood. Walking down memory lane, it seems I didn’t have a “type” so much, but there is certainly an evolution. Growing up in the 70s/80s made for some interesting lads to have “feelings” for.

Certainly my first crush was Davy Jones! I adored the Monkees, and what girl didn’t love his cute accent and mad tambourine skills?

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Luke! He was the hero of the biggest movie of my young childhood….

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…Until I realized that the cool, sexy ruffian Han Solo was much dreamier.

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Which brings me to Indy. 🙂

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I can’t completely explain this one other than my friend Nadine and I were smitten. I mean, he is good-looking. His character wasn’t the brightest, but at 10 I didn’t care much about that. I still have the General Lee Matchbox car. 🙂

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Then the 80s and Mtv came into full-swing and the androgynous look amongst men was very popular. Pretty sure my dad made lots of comments about these pop-stars who wore make-up.

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And then….The Brat Pack Happened.

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crushjudd

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“Nobody puts Baby in a corner.” 🙂

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Swoon.

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I’ve watched “Rebel Without a Cause” countless times. ❤

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Sting.

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Which brings me to high school in which the full-on crush began (and continues) for Bono.

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Upon further reflection, I see my crushes were quite diverse and included stars who were boyishly handsome, ruggedly handsome, make-up wearing 80s pop stars, “bad boy” actors, brooding actors, sensitive actors, and amazingly talented musicians.  Not bad. I can proudly say I was never into “The “Coreys” or boy bands. All in all, I think the late 1970s-80s was a great time for movies, music and television and that rite of passage of growing up: Crushes.

Where the Streets Have No Name

In deep reverence and gratitude to Paul Hewson, David Evans, Adam Clayton and Larry Mullen, Jr. 

I peek out my bedroom window and see the headlights in my driveway. There is no hesitation as I walk down the hall, glance over my shoulder, and announce: “Case is here. Be back later.”

Casey’s car feels like freedom. She already has all four windows down on the Chevette. On these humid summer nights, traveling down the road too fast, we feel blown by the wind. With U2 blaring, we don’t need to talk, don’t really want to. The music is enough to communicate exactly what we’re feeling.

“Streets” has a slow build. It starts out sounding like a church organ then builds to a congregation of guitar chords, rejoicing. It feels like God is in the car with us, proclaiming that it’s okay to forget ourselves, even if only for a little while.

Casey keeps time with her gear shift, the car lurching with each drumbeat as she navigates our town’s streets while heading for the highway. It’s all I can do not to jump out of my seat as we accelerate, the big city lights twinkling in the distance. We cruise on I-55, ride the curve, then suddenly our world opens up and my heart breaks slightly at the beauty of the Chicago skyline. The music thrums along, and I’m out of that space where I feel small. The city tears down my walls and heals my soul.

Even though it’s nighttime, the lights shine so brightly it feels like sunlight on my face.

Now we’re on Lake Shore Drive going past Soldier Field, the museums, the Wrigley building, Hancock, the Sears Tower. They all shine like liberty.

We don’t have anywhere to go. We just want to drive, leave our small town, small lives, and big fears behind us. It feels like starting over, like we’re on the edge of something great and powerful and limitless. We have in our hands a blank map, the streets ready to be named, the land ready to be discovered and tamed.

On these nights I always wonder, what would happen if we just keep on driving?