(If you missed this blog’s fifth-anniversary post over the weekend, check it here. Now, our regularly scheduled program.)
A couple of years ago, The Mrs. and I were hanging out on the Memorial Union Terrace here in Madison when we met a couple I’ll call Rex and Ellen. Rex was an elderly gent; Ellen was younger by a few years—she had almost certainly been a natural beauty when she was young, didn’t have to work much to preserve it as she aged, and will likely remain stunning for years to come. As it turned out, they had been married just a year or two, and they had met on the Internet. The course of their love had not run smooth, however. When it was time for them to meet in the real world, Rex had to admit to Ellen that he was not 72 years old, as he’d said—he was really 82.
I hope that when I’m 82, I’ll be the kind of person who lies about his age while trolling for babes on the Internet.
The point is this: Despite the Craigslist killer and the MySpace mom, Internet relationships can work out fine in the real world. I know this because one of mine crossed over this past weekend. On a trip to Minnesota, The Mrs. and I met whiteray of Echoes in the Wind and his Mrs., the Texas Gal.
Before the event, I christened it the First Annual Minnesota/Wisconsin Blog Summit and Beer Spree. Since then, it’s been pointed out to whiteray and me that we’re a bit pretentious calling it that, like an American sports league calling its champion the “world champs.” My response is that we had to call it something, and “Two Balding Writerly Music Fans Bonding Over Microbrew While Their Wives in the Next Room Marvel at the Depth of Their Geekitude” doesn’t sound as good, even if it’s true. I can’t top whiteray’s description of the evening, or even add much to it. I’ll only echo (insert rimshot here) his point about the way his blog and mine deal with music as memoir.
In the very first post on this blog, I wrote about how the record charts are the calendar of my life—name me a song out of the 70s, 80s, or the first third of the 90s, and and I’ll tell you where I was, how I heard it, and what it means to me now. Although I have stopped living and breathing the charts every day, I didn’t leave that music, or radio, the medium that brought it to me, behind. When this blog began, I was surprised to find that there were kindred spirits out there, people who “got it” the same way I do, and this past weekend, one day shy of this blog’s fifth birthday, it was a positive joy to meet one of them in the real world.
One thing, though: whiteray served me my beers in a Minnesota Vikings mug. But that’s OK. Take a guess what he’ll be drinking out of when we meet down here.
Recommended Reading: Last week at WNEW.com, I broke down CCR’s glory years by the numbers and examined the mysteries surrounding the deaths of Brian Jones and Jim Morrison. This morning, the Vinyl District is featuring Charlie’s “Killer Cut,” one band’s recipe for getting your record on the radio. Snag it now while you can.