“Celebrate we will….’cause life is short but sweet for certain…”
In a few days, I’ll blog completely about the Dave shows and LeRoi, etc. It’s still too soon now — I’m still processing it all to be honest. I figured in order to fully understand the next few posts (whenever I get them posted), you need to get a background story. So, I’ll try to sum it up, even though I could talk about this particular subject for hours and days, possibly longer if given bathroom breaks.
This post involves the first gift I ever got my brother. I mean, not the *first* gift in the sense of the first time I gave him anything, but the first gift that I drove myself to the store (Target) to get, picked out myself (without him hinting as to what he wanted), paid for with my own money, and wrapped myself. This was about the time in our lives when my brother and I realized that we genuinely liked each other. That is, we didn’t like each other because we had to due to the whole brother/sister thing — we chose to like each other. We had become friends. And to this day, we remain closer than any brother/sister duo that I know.
So, what did I drive my 16 year old self to the store to buy my brother, you ask? One of the greatest albums of all time — Crash. Please note that I spend more than $13.99 on my brother these days.
We had Under The Table and Dreaming on cassette tape (yes, cassette tape) and were listening to it frequently. My brother had just started to become attached to playing the guitar. This gift, I was sure, was perfect for him. Little did I know, how perfect it was for me. It was just one more thing that bonded us those last few months he lived at home to ensure that we would have a strong relationship once he moved out and we were in the ‘real world’.
Needless to say, that album really did rock our worlds and we were hooked. Then, the passion for the band grew. He was lucky enough to find a girl that loved Dave as much as he did (or maybe it came later, I’m not sure if he introduced DMB to her or if she was a fan before. All I know is that now, that girl loves her some DMB). Then, one day after my brother had moved out, he asked if I wanted to go to a DMB concert with him. This concept was foreign to me. We were baptist and we didn’t do concerts. It’s amazing really that I even found out who Dave was…I mean, it’s not like our church got subscriptions to Rolling Stone.
That concert I sat by myself and watched Dave live for the first time. My boyfriend at the time couldn’t go — I’m sure he had an excuse, but I’m glad now that he didn’t go. This way, DMB concerts were never tainted.
Since then, I’ve been fairly obsessed and have gone to at least 30 shows, probably more like 40ish. I forced my husband to love them — and he does. And I’m pretty sure he loves them because he likes their music, not because I’ll throw a hissy if he doesn’t. He probably doesn’t love them as much as me, but he tries — and I love him for it. He puts up with my Dave habit, what more can you ask for in a man. He even plays the “what song do you think they are going to open with/play next/close with” game that I play at concerts. He listens while I complain that I can’t go to EVERY show and he doesn’t gripe (too much) when I constantly check the setlists while the concert is going on to see what I’m missing. He even let me: (a) walk down the aisle to Dave; (b) have our first dance to Dave; and (c) put a Dave quote on the invites/favors. He was *this* close to letting the ice sculpture be the signature firedancer.
DMB has been the group that got me through a lot of nasty, stressful and/or wonderful times. They are a part of my life, and have been for nearly 15 years. With DMB, you either love them or you hate them — and the Carter-Lewis families LOVE them.
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