On Coolness or Lack Thereof

I have to begin this post by tootling my own horn. I understand cool. I am not at all saying that I am cool. That would be a blatant lie. But, as someone who has been immersed in loserness for a large majority of his formative years, I can say I get it.

In high school, I wasn’t into fashion or cool music. I loved discussing Kate Chopin’s The Awakening in English class. That was a highlight for me. That is how far from cool I was.

But as an outsider, you inevitably analyze cool. You seek to bridge the gap between yourself and the “normals” who wear Adidas hoodies, play basketball, and talk about sports. I remember in eighth grade (8th grade Tedd preferred Nintendo over humans…which may be still true…) the cool guys in the PE locker room all wore blue Adidas sandals. I honestly believed that was a shortcut to coolness: “If I buy the sandals, I’m halfway there!”

That social status math was wildly inaccurate, but the calculus that it started in my brain was… a skill. It’s not important or useful, but the observations allowed me to understand what is cool, even if I was outside its sphere of power.

All that is to say, I stayed up with current trends pretty well. And I could talk about them pretty fluently with my younger nieces and nephews.

Well. Could.

It seems as if COVID and its friend quarantine have diminished my understanding of what popular culture is.

The incident in question occurred when Ernesto and I went to a concert. It was a small venue show; the headliner was Rebecca Black.

Okay. First, I have to say, if you only know Rebecca Black from “Friday”, then you should give her another go. She has some absolute bangers that are really fun to dance to. (Or clean your kitchen to, if you have been holed up like most of the population.) I highly recommend “NGL” which was one of my most repeated songs this summer.

Ms. Black PSA aside, the venue was small and the opener was… Something else. 

When Ernesto and I got there, it was three women (Girls?) behind a DJ stand. They were young, like, maybe high school? I don’t even know if they could get a driver’s permit. But they weren’t even technically DJ’ing. They were just kind of standing there and swaying. One of the women was doing some musical stuff, but the others were just like “Heyyyyy! When I say ‘Rebecca’ you say ‘Black’!”

It wasn’t bad or anything, but I wouldn’t call it an “act” really. 

Well, all of a sudden, two of the girls are like “See ya!” and leave the stage, and then one was left.

At first… I did not know what to make of her. I have no idea if she was thirty-five or fifteen. She had one of those timeless faces… you just don’t know!

Also, she was so casual that it was jarring. Her first words to the audience were, “I just got here in my Uber! Traffic!” But it wasn’t said as if it was an excuse, it was like your best friend was five minutes late for coffee. 

So she starts playing around with the DJ equipment and does a casual intro. Then…

Then…

I don’t even know how to describe it. It was as if a musical robot belched. There were lots of sounds and music and words… The sounds weren’t singing technically… But it was definitely something electronic and musical. 

This electronic belch blasted the audience for roughly 95 seconds, then ended just as abruptly as it started.

It wasn’t bad, but I had no idea what it was. THEN, she says, “You may have heard this on Tik Tok!”

Ooooohhhhhhhh… The Tikety Tocks: realm of the youths, the newest social media drug, not understood by me.

Don’t get me wrong, I have no qualms with Tik Tok, I avoid it because I know I would lose hours of my life to it. I already have watched roughly 1000 videos of people dancing to Adele’s “Water under the Bridge” on Instagram, so I can’t fathom my engagement with a platform dedicated to that kind of content.

She then says the word “hyperpop”, which made a lot of sense in terms of context. It was music and fun but also terrifying, like being in a car with a great speaker system about to go over a cliff.

I can say that after about 3 songs, I was very into “the hyperpops.” The artist (I… can’t bring myself to say singer…) was a blast and non-stop energy. At one point she called her mom and goes, “My mom doesn’t understand English. This next song is about a white boy I like!”

That song is called “100 Boyfriends” and is veerrryyy dancy (also of Tik Tok fame).

The experience was just wild. The artist had absolutely no wall between herself and the audience (she ran down and danced in the GA area twice). She told us about her personal life like we were her best friends.

This was all intermixed with more energetic, electronic, music bombs which struck us like a sonic wave and only lasted between 2-3 minutes.

I feel like this had to be what anyone over thirty thought of the Black Eyed Peas in 2003. I remember I went to their show in college and thought they were the best. I really only knew “Where Is the Love?” but I danced along to everything else. But, really, what was that? Some of their songs defy any sort of logic or sense of taste. BUT I LOVED THEM AS A YOUTH! TURN ON ANY B.E.P. OR FERGIE AND I WILL PARTY LIKE IT’S 2004!

All that is to say that I had a great time partying with Gen Z babies at this concert. Their music is very different but very fun. And if their artists are as wonderful, warm, and open as this DJ was, then rock on my friends. 

Once again, I stand outside the coolsphere. With this generation, the clear indicators are the fact that I have no tattoos, no piercings, and did not wear a backless top (hot for both men or women). I very much enjoy the Gen Z vibe, though. 

Next time I may be a little braver and interact with the hyperpop locals. I’ll be sure to ask what they think of my Adidas sandals.

100 Years of Grammatude

My step-grandmother recently turned 100. How amazing is that? She has seen the Great Depression, two World Wars, computers, sliced bread, cell phones, TV, and both the discovery and loss of Pluto as a planet during her life. What a journey!

I don’t know if I want to spend that much time on our Earth rock, but she has certainly had a great time.

The past ten years she has been in a retirement home. Since she is less mobile, she doesn’t get to come to many family events, which means it’s been almost five years since I’ve seen her. I knew for her big birthday shindig I had to make it down, though. I mean, it had been forever, and it’s such a huge milestone.

Also, Gramma C (as she likes to be called) and I were pretty tight when I was growing up.

My mom got remarried to my stepdad when I was about eleven. They were newlyweds and liked to travel, so they often took trips by themselves, which meant that I needed a chaperone.

During these periods, I always got passed around to the different grandmothers. My mom’s mom, my dad’s mom, and Gramma C were all in the rotation for at least a couple days.

I, of course, knew what to expect from my paternal and maternal grandmothers. There would always be movie rentals, Nick at Night, game shows, trips to Wal-Mart, and my fave childhood staples: Raisin Brain, Reese’s Peanut Cups, and mac n’ cheese.

But Gramma C was different. She was not like my other grandmothers, she acted… well, much younger (hence, I think why she is still trucking at 100).

She’d always come over with her sister Ruth, who was just as down for a good time as she was. They did not sit still for a single second.

While my mom’s mom would clean the house and mop the floors while I was at school, Ruth and Gramma C would be ladies about town. They’d go to the mall, drive around Springfield, and find things to do.

When I was twelve, they took me to see The Thomas Crown Affair. Correct. The movie with the full-frontal nudity scenes. Gramma C, did not care at all, she roared with laughter when the screen had five-foot tall boobs on it. As I turned red and slunk down in my seat, she slapped Ruth on the shoulder and goes, “Isn’t that crazy!”

At night, we’d all sit around the dining room table and play a game they called “What the Hell”, which is a bit like Euchre. Sometimes we’d play for 2-3 hours at a time.

I’ll never forget the night we were playing the game and Bill Clinton was giving one of his State of the Union addresses. Gramma C and Ruth were MOONING over him.

“Isn’t he handsome?”

“And smart!”

“I just love his speeches.” 

For Gramma and Ruth, age didn’t matter – they just went and did. They talked about cute boys, played cards, and had wine coolers with dinner.

At my stepbrother’s wedding, they both had a few glasses of wine and some martinis. This led to Ruth picking me up and swinging me around as Johnny Cash’s “Ring of Fire” played. (At this point, I was nineteen and 180 pounds… This did not stop Aunt Ruth.)

“A ring of fire, Teddy Boy! A Ring of Fire!”

One of my top 10 memories of all time. 

All this is to say that if anyone in my life was going to make it to 100, it was going to be Gramma C. People may give a lot of advice on how to live a long time, but, after spending most of my life with Gramma, I can say that it’s really just the drive to have fun: You’ll know 100 is very doable when you can sit in a room with a wine cooler and a video of a Bill Clinton speech and have the time of your life.

And with that, I gotta say cheers to Gramma. We’re still having a great time with her, but I bet Ruth is waiting on the other side with a deck of cards and a radio playing Johnny Cash’s greatest hits. I think she’s been with us so long because I don’t know if heaven is ready for that reunion. It’s going to be one “What the Hell” of a good time.