There was the blue room, a lean-to add-on, no insulation. It was cold, very cold. We used the closet to keep the apples crisp all winter long. But at last I had my own room. No more sharing the partial, unfinished basement with my foster brother and the furnace. No more sharing the utility room with my foster brother, the hot water heater and the deep freeze. No more sharing the unfinished garage.
And to top it off, I got my own stereo for Christmas. Sort of. It was a small, blue kid's stereo Mom ordered from Sears & Roebuck. It had two separate speakers unlike most kids' record players. I remember, we'd ordered one for $35, but Sears goofed and sent the more expensive $45 model to the store--the one I had wanted but was told we couldn't afford. As it came in right before the big day, they just told Mom to keep it instead of sending it back. Even so, the speakers were probably only 6" wide and 12" tall. Records were wider than the cabinet, so I had to lift the dark plastic cover to play one.
I had some 45s, but no albums, so my sister gave me a couple of hers when she got married: the Ronco collections Far Out and Hit After Hit. Having no personal space before, I hated going to bed. Sleeping equipment for kids seemed low priority to Mom. We always had new couches, but Angelo (my step-brother) and I always slept on trunks or cots. With Lloyd and Kim out of the house, I had a bedroom with a real bed, and more importantly, a stereo. And thanks to Kim, I had a couple of records.
As soon as 8:00 rolled around, I was off to bed even though my bedtime was 9:00. In my dark room, stereo on, eyes shut, I entered my own world. I became a star. I became the lead singer of the Bay City Rollers and sang "Saturday Night" before thousands of screaming fans. I became Elvin Bishop and brought Kelly, the girl I was crazy about, up on stage and sang "Fooled Around and Fell In Love."
Through my teens and twenties, I had a hard time functioning in society, partially because those cold nights in a dark room with the music blasting when I was a child. Truth is, I loved the life I was living in my head far more than the life I was living in the world.
Since then, I've become better at functioning in the world, but the truth is, I'm still not a big fan of reality, at least not the version promoted by society.
I'd still rather escape into a song, a poem, or a painting than deal with health insurance or taxes. Material goods don't mean much to me, but time in my own mind does.
Balance, of course, is healthy. I'm no more healthy than the next guy. Instead of getting lost seeking things, I get lost seeking dreams, which can leave you just as empty. It is still avoiding the concrete moments of day to day life.
Being doesn't come easy.
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