We have certainly been invaded.

Here's More of "It All"

Okay, Sonja, here you go: "My first rock and roll concert"

But first can I tell you what a drag my hometown and my high school were? God, I hated high school--hated, hated, hated. Here's one reason why: On May 9th, 1965 the Rolling Stones were giving a concert in Chicago. I couldn't have been more excited. So I started asking around to see who would like to go with me. Guess how many of my classmates were into going to see the Rolling Stones for the first time in their young lives? Zero is right. The reason they all gave was all pretty much along the lines of, "Ick. The Rolling Stones! They are so dirty and so bad."

Tom Wolfe had one of the memorable quotes of the 1960's contrasting the Beatles and the Stones:

"The Beatles want to hold your hand, but the Rolling Stones want to burn your town."

Yeah, yeah, yeah.

That's why I loved them. I trusted them to want to burn down my town and, I hoped, my high school.

So no one at my high school wanted to see the group that would soon be known as "The World's Greatest Rock and Roll Band". The band who would one day sell over 200 million albums worldwide wasn't good enough for them. Well, I had two words for them and they aren't "Bless You".

I went alone. Yup. Fourteen years old and I did something none of them would do: I got on the train and went to downtown Chicago to see them by myself. I had just seen them May 2nd on Ed Sullivan where they had done "The Last Time", "Little Red Rooster" " Everybody Needs Someone to Love", and 2120 S. Michigan"--yeah Chicago and Chess Records where they recorded.

I can't remember for sure, but I think I bought my ticket at the door. I mean I must have. No one was lending me a credit card to get a ticket by phone or anything. Can you imagine just showing up today to see the Stones expecting to get a ticket at the door? No. Why? Because all the dumbf**ks from my high school are taking their kids now to show them how cool Mom and Dad are.

I wasn't all that popular in high school, and I'm proud of it. I'm sure I was the only student there who subscribed to the Village Voice, wore different colored tights instead of stockings, read philosophy in typing/shorthand class instead of taking the boring practice tests, and, worst of all, hung out with a few other unpopular non-conformist girls who turned me on to Bob Dylan weren't afraid to be themselves. Also, I had big breasts and was attractive but I had no intention of giving football players blow jobs, which was why the cheerleaders and some of the other girls were so damn popular. A note here: Once the BMOC and captain of the football team asked me out for a date. I was stupid and vain enough to go out with him. When he dropped me off that night I remember I didn't want to kiss him. He sat and stared at me. He also acted like he was waiting for something to happen. I got out of the car, slammed the door, and went in the house to wonder who had made up the lie that I was easy. No, you could have your popularity, thank you very much.

Oh, wait. One more thing. Another note about my snooty classmates. : When I was fifteen I was known to hang out with a notorious bad boy, high school drop-out, long-haired, suspected dope smoker. I ended up marrying him for reasons I can't comprehend even now. But this was another big black mark on my character and the short list of classmates who would be seen in public with me grew shorter. Later, after we were married and he sold marijuana for a living, I met lots of the holier-than-thou, looked-down-their-noses-at-me kids in my living room where they were testing the pot they were about to buy.

Anyhow, back to my first rock and roll concert. It was, of course, a life-changing experience. I saw them in the Airie Crown Theater in the old McCormick Place. Old, because it burned down sometime ago. But I remember it as being a smallish theater. I bet I wasn't twenty feet from the stage. I talked to a group of boys were had come together that were sitting in seats near me. They were nice and included me in their conversations while we waited for the show to start.

I knew one thing instantly. I would get a long black-and-white scarf and drape it on me when I learned to dance like Mick Jagger. And I did. But in those days no one was passing joints or getting up to dance no matter what the music did to their feet. Incredible really when you think of it. All those teenagers sitting and actually listening, not screaming, to the band. And behaving themselves.

I had such a great time I couldn't help but feel sorry for all the loser f**kers who wouldn't dream of coming with me to see this "disgusting" band. When I got off the train that evening, I was already changed. I was now a wild one. Some boys I didn't know who didn't go to my school pulled the car over and asked me if I wanted a ride. For the first time in my life I said yes. I was willing to do everything, try everything (but not have sex with strangers, of course). I was going to be my own person in a big way now. They took me home and my new life began. Soon people like me were called flower children and, later, hippies.

And I never did get to see the Beatles and John Lennon whom I loved so much I wanted to die when he did. But from that summer on I never missed a U.S. Rolling Stones concert until 1994 when I was a broken woman, having just lost my mind, custody of my children, my sobriety, my second husband, my car, my home...you name it. But even then I stood and faced North towards Soldier Field where they were playing, the Voodoo Lounge Tour, and I said a regretful goodbye. My last Stones concert was the Steel Wheels tour, when my friend and sponsee, Linda, drove us up to East Troy, WI. I was due to have my second child in two months. And I did catch part of one of their European tours too. In 1976 I was living in Munich when they came to the former olympic field to do a concert. Alcohol was allowed at this concert, unlike my American experience. Sad to say, I got so drunk I really embarrassed myself that night--when I couldn't find the U-Bahn to get home without help--and the next day when I told some American and British Fullbright scholars that I was surprised the Rolling Stones knew so much German. I said, "Man, they sang almost every song in German." The girl closest to me looked puzzled and then disgusted, "They didn't sing one song in German!" Oh well. I still had a great time.

Okay, Sonja, "My First Rock and Roll Concert"