The Bryan Adams In All Of Us

Me and some guys from school
Had a band and we tried real hard.
Jimmy quit, Jody got married
I should’ve known we’d never get far.
-Summer of 1969, Bryan Adams

It was the evening of August 15th, 1969 and a young Bryan Adams found sleep impossible. It seemed like only a few days ago that he’d pawned his ten speed for the battered old Teisco guitar which now hung on his wall. Since then, he’d practiced until all six strings glistened with the fruit of innumerable, angst-fueled arpeggio exercises.

Then there was the band. Jody had just convinced his dad to loan them enough money to record their first album on an 8 track. There didn’t seem to be a cloud in the frayed denim sky – but a nagging fear kept telling him they would never get far.

Sure enough, disaster struck the following morning.

Jimmy had been struggling to keep up with the ‘new math’ at school and his folks had forced him to quit. Jody, still promising to pull through on his end of the bargain, stated things were getting ‘serious’ between him and Debbie. That only left Danny, groupie and occasional ‘oh yeah‘ vocal contributor, who promptly deflated like an exposed perm the moment he heard the news.

Though Bryan was the only one who would eventually go on to rock and roll greatness, there was a part of him that would linger forever in the corridors of that fateful summer.

Perhaps being imprisoned in an endless loop of pubescence isn’t everybody’s idea of a good time – but gardeners aren’t immune to their own memories of ‘that one time.’ That April when the scent of lilacs filled the entire neighborhood; the smell of the wildflower meadow after a rain; that summer the perennials remembered all their lines and emerged on stage at exactly the right time.

Moments that lifted us, almost pulled us to – what?

Stumped, we pillage our Anglo-Saxon tickle trunk for the right word. Nostalgia? Nope. Yearning? Not quite, but getting there. Wistful? Getting warmer-

Hunched over the trunk, we jump suddenly as someone taps us on the shoulder. In front of us, stands a elderly gentleman clad in lederhosen which seems to have been made entirely from pipe cleaners and construction paper. After some consideration, we conclude he must be a German approximation of the late childhood entertainer, Mr.Dressup.

He nods curtly and holds forward a brown paper package tied up with string.

“What is it?” We ask.

Sehnsucht,” he responds. And then, in an accent as thick as his mustache, he adds, “an inconsolable longing in our hearts for ve know not vat.” Tipping a complicated origami alpine hat, he then trots out of view.

Sehnsucht – that’s it! Cheers Herr Dressup!

We turn around to find a weathered Brian Adams hungrily eyeing the twined package in our arms. Clutching our precious cargo, we shuffle around in the trunk and toss him the nostalgia.

Maybe some things are better left in 1969.

Benjamin Inglis, Media Assistant