Nightflying: The Entertainment Guide

Once again I push the limits of Peter Read’s patience by begging and pleading to have my deadline extended. The reason being, I had been invited to attend Magic 105’s 25th Anniversary bash and wanted the chance to write about it.

Truth? Life is a surreal kind of thing. On one hand, there I was with all of my old friends…on the other hand, we were in an alien place: the Clear Channel parking lot.

On one hand, there were many old friends to see and catch up with….on the other hand, it’s been 11 years since I left Magic and once again, so much has changed.

I have a very strong tendency to be overly nostalgic. Last night I was steeped in it. I sat there watching the people and just thinking and thinking. I was remembering the 10th Anniversary party. We hosted Damn Yankees and Bad Company at Barton Coliseum. Is it me or are all three basically moot at this point? Damn Yankees? Tommy Shaw went back to Styx and Ted went back to the wilderness. Bad Company? Not sure…the line up that we had was the revamped 80’s Bad Company, with a guy named Brian Howe on vocals. I admit it, although I think that Paul Rogers is an outstanding singer (he’s touring with Queen as I write this), I really like this version of Bad Co., but where are they now?
My beloved Barton Coliseum is a place that I rarely see utilized anymore. In my world it will always be THE concert venue. It was the Heavy Metal Parking Lot of my youth. I even graduated from high school there. I still remember that day - wishing we could get it the hell over with and wondering what the next amazing concert would be.

Traveling back even further, I remember when we rolled out the yellow and red Magic logo. Ok, I admit it: I will always be true to the old blue and white one. Tommy Smith and I were ready to wage war to keep the logo as it was, but times (and logos) must change. We hosted an amazing outdoor show on the NLR side of the Arkansas River. Let’s see it I can remember the line up…I know that Cheap Trick was the headliner and a Memphis band called Mama Terra was in the line-up. Yet another band that Casey Jones and I bonded with. Casey and I were so close by then, that we accidentally dressed exactly the same way that day. We were all there from dawn to dusk and loved every single minute of the day. We were so much more than co-workers: we were a family.
So that brought my thoughts back to the moment at hand. It’s frustrating to be in the corporate world of 2005, especially when you started your career in the small radio station world of 1986. It’s also frustrating, on a similar note, to yearn…not so much for the job that you once had, or even for the specific experiences, but for the feeling that you had inside.

I have a strong feeling that I have discussed this in a previous column but I think that it’s worth mentioning again. How do you hang on to that? How do you feel like a kid on Christmas, even though you’re 42 years old? How? Is it easier if you actually have kids of your own? Perhaps you can relive your own youth through them. That’s my hope for all of you parents out there. I don’t have kids, so that places the “burden” solely on my shoulders.
Please don’t think that this column with answer these pressing questions. If I knew all of this, I would surely be sitting on a mountaintop, wearing a tall pointy hat while the rest of the world strived to climb that mountain just to seek my wisdom. Either that or I would be the star of my own infomercial. No, I’m just like the rest of you, trying my best out there…still trying to decide who and what I will be when I “grow up.”

There’s only one thing in the world that even comes close to making me feel better about the entire picture. It’s the one thing that has always been there for me…my best and most reliable friend…music. Music can take me back to my days at Magic 105…to the high school graduation day…to that Christmas where it actually snowed on Christmas Day. It can be rock, pop or my dad’s Glenn Miller and Nat King Cole. It doesn’t matter. Music is so nostalgic that it’s tactile for me…I can hear certain songs and remember how the air smelt, the food tasted or how a guy kissed.

Last night, I hugged all of my old friends goodbye and got in my car. I turned on Sharpe’s Gonzo show and turned it way up and rolled down my windows. As I was barreling down I-430 with the Arkansas Indian Summer air blowing through my hair, Queensryche came on the radio. I went on yet another sentimental journey all of my own…and smiled.

View Carole's previous column.

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