Brain Dump Friday – Misfit Edition

I admit freely that I thought, back in the day, that The Crash Test Dummies were a cool group. In fact, I bought tickets to a concert when Barry and I were dating, and we went. It was, in all honesty, a really fun time. They were playing at a very old theater in San Diego, and it was an enjoyable, intimate evening with soft lighting and good music.
I was talking to Jessup about Winter Jam this morning, and we were thinking back to a few years ago when we went to see Skillet and TobyMac in concert. I said, “You’re dad and I haven’t been to a concert since…gosh, I think The Crash Test Dummies was the last one.” He said, “Hmm, never heard of them.” I gasped in horror! I have failed him! I immediately gave him my phone and told him to look up “Mmm, Mmm, Mmm” (on iTunes) and give it a listen. I went on and on about how, when it was on the radio, I would turn it up so loud, and sing along with it. Then, as he found it, and he was listening, this look came across his face. It wasn’t a look of joy, or rapture, or even tolerance. It was a look of pity. Pity. From my 17-year old son. Suddenly the girl inside me waving her arms to be “cool” in the eyes of her offspring, shriveled up and hid in the corner. All the bonus points I’d gotten for Skillet…gone. How could he not love them? How could he give me that look? I expected a look of “Wow, Mom! I know you so much better now. I can see a little bit more of who you are, and that’s the person everyone should know. That person is amazing, and deep, and…”. I expected a sense of knowing, and I got a sense of ‘What’s wrong with you?’. My shame set in. What did I see in them? What could have been so great that I bought all their albums, and even got one autographed for Barry as a memento of that night so long ago?
And then I began to think some more about it.
We all go through seasons. This band, this crazy, strange group of people, helped me through something. They made me realize that all the weirdness I felt in high school and beyond, wasn’t so different from what anyone else felt. I may have seemed cool on the outside, I may have been friendly with a lot of people, but I had only a few good/close friends, and even fewer friends after high school.
So, this is what I decided to write about this morning – this weird little band of misfits that I once loved so dearly. They, along with several other bands I’m now too ashamed to mention, have seen me through hard times, and helped me to realize that I’m not so weird. I’m not so different. I’m not the misfit I think I am so much of the time. …Maybe.
That is all.


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