Things Can Only Get Better

A thousand skeptic hands won't keep us from the things we plan

I haven’t written for a while because it feels strange to do my usual humorous stuff while Elon Musk sells our country for parts. It’s a bleak, upsetting time. Everyone I know is anxious. And the ones that aren’t anxious will be soon enough because a man with a brain worm and no medical education is now in charge of our country’s health. Let’s hope the worm understands that vaccines eradicate preventable diseases, and takes control of the brain, because otherwise we’re all as screwed as the bear cub RFK Jr. buried in Central Park.

I keep reminding myself that we can’t let these assholes ruin our lives. So, while we wait for our tax dollars to pay to have Trump’s face carved into Mt. Rushmore, assuming they can find enough slimy orange rock, we need to find joy however we can. Well, maybe not via airplane for a while.

I might need a brain worm of my own so I can relax a little.

But in times like this, it’s tempting to embrace nostalgia, and that’s exactly what I did last Sunday. My husband and I headed to downtown Austin for a concert by 80’s stars Howard Jones and ABC. The last time I saw Howard Jones in concert was in 1986, the night before my SATs. The SATs that I bombed and had to retake a month or so later. I still managed to go to college, so no hard feelings, Howard!

My sister Amy said I should wear what I wore in 1986 to the show, but I don’t know if The Limited is even still in business so I just put on a pair of jeans. I definitely wanted to look nice because my friend Molly gifted us her seats in one of the theater’s opera boxes. Meaning, we were two cranks on high display in the first row.

We looked just like this, only my mustache is thicker.

A lot of my midlife friends go to concerts by bands that are popular now, and they often get asked if they’re there to pick up their kids. Or they’re looked at like they might be narcs. Actually, do narcs still go undercover at concerts? Or was that DEA program cut by DOGE? Can we openly sell coke now? LMK, I need a new job.

But while these friends sometimes feel a little odd being the oldest people at the young concerts, this isn’t an issue at an 80’s concert. At all. No, ma’am. We fit right in.

While we waited in line outside the theater:

• The women in front of us discussed their hormone replacement therapy

• The woman behind us talked about her new crochet project

• The 60-year-old rebel punk in a kilt and Doc Martens who has been fighting authority since 1982 bragged about his great parking spot

MY PEOPLE.

Once inside the theater:

• A group of women danced and screamed along to the pre-show New Wave songs the venue played

• I Shazamed the pre-show New Wave songs the venue played because I couldn’t remember who sang them

• During a song by Spandeau Ballet, the woman behind me told her date, “One of the guys from this band is married to someone from Wham!” and I whipped around and said, “Shirley! From Shirley and Pepsi!” and then I said, “We must be the same age!” and she slightly grimaced

• The group of women that danced and screamed along to the pre-show New Wave music were too tired to get up during the actual show and one of them was napping (I should mention the show started at 7 p.m.)

MY PEOPLE.

Howard Jones and Martin Frey are in their late 60’s, and they both sound really great. They sang all of their hits, like The Look of Love, Poison Arrow, and Zillionaire (ABC) and What Is Love?, Like to Get To Know You Well, and No One Is to Blame (Howard). As a bonus, Howard’s lead guitarist is the guy from Kajagoogoo who wrote “Too Shy To Shy”, so they did that one, too.

Kajagoogoo back in their hair glory days. I don’t even know where to start.

It felt comforting, I guess, to be at the show listening to music from 40 years ago while chaos reined in my iPhone’s news feed. It’s a refuge when enveloped by music from a simpler time. I won’t say a better time because I’m well aware it wasn’t better for everyone, even if my main problem back then was fear that my Donna Summer stack perm would never grow out. And of course my SAT score.

“We’re close enough to jump onto the stage!” I yelled at Chris at one point.

“I don’t want to die at an 80’s concert!” he yelled back. Which is understandable, but then again, we’d probably make the AARP main news page if we did.

Martin Frey of ABC

Is Howard’s keyboardist paying tribute to the Lambda Lambda Lambda band?

We loved the show, but the song that’s stuck with me is Howard’s Things Can Only Get Better. When I hear that title, the pessimist part of me immediately thinks, “Or things will get much worse”, but the lyrics are especially poignant right now so I’m trying to stay hopeful.

Treating today as though it was the last, the final show
Get to 60 and feel no regret
It may take a little time, a lonely path, an uphill climb
Success or failure will not alter it

And do you feel scared? I do
But I won't stop and falter
And if we threw it all away
Things can only get better

I hope he’s right.

Thanks for reading!

—Wendi