Shocking, Isn't it?

"The unexamined life is not worth living." 

 (Plato, Apology of Sacrates)

Every now and then, I get into a conversation with a person from another generation. It turns out many of these young(er) folks are great fans of the music I think of as “my era”. Bad Brains, Dead Kennedys, The Clash, The English Beat, The Specials, Echo & TBM, Dropkick Murphys, etc. Their reactions to my knowing and liking these bands are always along the same lines. “Get out!”, “No way!”,“YOU?” In the early 80’s I stumbled onto the new wave scene and was hooked immediately. I love it. It fit me to a tee. I sought it out any way I could, which opened the door to other underground music and eventually to the punk rock scene. It was powerful, it was alive, it was artistic, it was real, it was esoteric and it was glorious. I embraced it with open arms and never let go. I went to the shows, I mashed, I fought for the causes, I supported the rebellion, I dyed my hair all unnatural colors, wore funky make up, my own style of clothes and even shaved one side of my head. I did all that I could to identify myself with this amazing subculture that went against the norm at all costs and swam upstream. I stood out amongst the crowd and reveled in the shock value my appearance had, because it signified my wake up call to mainstream America.

Then one day I was walking down the street, probably on my way to another show and decked out to the hard core nines, when I saw this little old lady struggling with her bags of groceries. She reminded me of my grandmother, which made me rush to her side and offer to help. I can’t tell you exactly what transpired because I was completely overcome by her gut reaction, that I barely remember much else. She actually recoiled from me in a state of horror and fear. I tried to reassure her I only wanted to help, but I couldn’t get her to see I wasn’t a threat. That I was a nice and caring person. To this day, I know she was wrong to stereotype me, but I don’t blame her. I can’t blame her. After all, she got full force the exact impression I was trying hard to portray: I was different, I was a rebel, I was ready to fight for my independence and force change onto the world. Yes, I had gotten exactly what I wanted. I shocked her, and it broke my heart.

For me, it was one of those defining moments in my life. One of those forever significant moments. This woman had no idea the profound effect she had on me that day, but I do. I will never forget it. It changed me. I started to let my hair grow out, lightened up on the makeup, wear more acceptable clothes, etc. Of course, a full time job and other things also had a profound effect on some of those alterations as well. I certainly didn’t radically change overnight. Yet, it’s safe to say that this little old lady crossing the street one day was the catalyst for my metamorphous back into the mainstream. So much so, that I still think of that moment every now and then, especially at those times I am discussing hard core music with these energetic twenty-something year olds. I think of the expression on her face each time I notice them look at me different. When I see they are pleasantly surprised to be connecting with someone they least expected to. When I see the breaking down of the stereotypical assumptions they formed about me. I don’t blame them. I can’t blame them. After all, I am old(er), more refined. I am mainstream. I am corporate. It is the exact image I am trying hard to portray. But, there are still other sides to me, sides that haven’t changed. I still support the independence rebellion, I still sail on with the Bad Brains, and I still revel in the shock value I can have. Only now, it is a positive one.