ROOI

My friends, 1987 goes down as the best year of my youth. Everything seemed to click for me that year and in many ways it was my glory year...when asked if I could go back in time this is when I would go. It was fun, so much fun. And even when it wasn't fun it was always interesting.

1987 was when I graduated from high school, barely. Seems my parents were right on a few points when I started to drive the year before...I fucked off so much and studied not a bit that I was kind of shocked that I did pass. This being before the time of not being able to fail students...meaning there were consequences for your actions or lack there of. The great big wide world was before us and I had no particular plan...I hadn't been accepted to the fine arts program at York University and I didn't want to go just for the sake of going. So my summer wasn't going to end in August with the start of university...it was weird but not scary. I was too stupid to be scared. And if my parents and friends pressed me for a plan I was going to take the year off, take night school to bring by GPA up and work to save money...all of which happened except the saving money part. If you're interested, one of my previous posts Artsy Fartsy details how I fared the following year...this one is about the summer to end all summers.

As the school year was drawing to a close, along with it our time at Don Bosco, there seemed to be a lot of nervous energy for me and my cohorts. Times were a changing and we all knew it, whether we wanted to believe it or not...life as we had come to know was about to fade away. We did, in all our own ways, move on with our lives after the epicness of that summer. Of course we fought bravely to keep our gang together. We spent a week up at a cottage after grad and prom, which will probably get it's own post someday. Our local watering hole, a sports bar called Stripes, had become an almost nightly ritual for us. Drunken weekends at one house party or another and the coup de grace of it all...the month of August hanging at Dennis' house because his parents were in Italy...jack pot baby!!!

Dennis had warned us repeatedly, don't shoot your bottle caps into the tomato garden. Every time we were there the same warning was issued and every time we ignored him and his older brother Fred....a real life caricature Fred was. Flick, right into the garden. As a side note, when his parents came back home from their month long trip to the home country the father went straight to the garden to check the tomatoes...I bet you could hear the yell of "Dennis!!!!" across the neighbourhood. Italians and their wonderful tomatoes. Sitting around the garden table drinking and telling stories, relating the days events...it could have gone on forever as far as we were concerned but we knew it couldn't. And born from that knowledge, that certainty, a plan was hatched to have our band play one last party at the house before the summer faded away. This was the last time that our band would play together...our way of saying good bye to the summer of 2017.

I was working at the Golden Griddle still and I had requested the Saturday night of the party off and if possible the Sunday morning as well. I knew Sunday was a no go but I had no worries about the Saturday night as I was always scheduled for morning shifts. Well, moron Peter decided to get cute and schedule me for a 10 to 8 shift for the first time ever...there had never been a 10 to 8 shift until this day. This may have been payback for my errrr....less than exemplary attitude but we were at a crossroads now. I talked to Pete to no avail, I tried switching shifts, again with no luck. Well....this was going to be an issue, I was not missing that party and my chance to play. So, with no one willing to do me a solid I did the only rational thing I could do, for the first and only time in my life I walked out on a job. I didn't even bother saying anything, I just walked...fuck you. I didn't say anything to my parents and when I got to the party I just did my thing. Eventually the story got out and it made for some good laughs. At some point my mom had called to ask me what had happened, which is odd because I never gave out my friends phone numbers so I have no idea how she tracked me down. Anyway, she told me that work had called and said that it was OK and I could still come in the next morning...not fucking likely, I didn't get home until close to noon the next day and besides, I quit.

So, back to the band....we had won the second annual Battle of the Bands earlier in the year and while we wish we were planning a world tour we knew, well most of us knew, that it was fun while it lasted, time to move on. There was one person that had visions of grandeur and this night figured prominently in that vision...but that will be for another day. The night was about to begin...

The five of us arrived early to set up the gear and do a quick tune up, as I recall we were only playing 5 or 6 songs but we wanted them to be our best...our little gift to all of us, a thank you to good friends. Slowly the people started to arrive, cases of beer, bags of ice, bottles of vodka, rum, rye and probably a few of those disgusting two litre bottles of glow in the dark alcoholic coolers...ick. The house seemed to swell with people...every room seemed to be occupied, the back yard was full of people and more were coming all the time. It was shaping up to be quite the night...

In the early stages of the night I didn't drink much as I was going to drive home the girl I was seeing...my beer infusion would have to wait but that was OK, for most of the night I was observing the gang...trying to soak it all in. Let's see if I can recall them all: Steve, Joe, Vernon, Ciupa, Tony, Dennis, Rudy, Lena, Connie, Stacey, Zvonko, Dave, Sue...and of course the band, Flip, Dom, Ivan, Danny and yours truly...a core of 16 to 20 people that eased in and out of the ROOI gang. A non official moniker that simply stood for Right Out Of It...you see, we weren't preppies, ginos, jocks or rockers...although individually some of us fell into those groups we really weren't part of them. We did our own thing. And if you're wondering, I would have been closest to the rocker clan...long hair and all. Partying up with these people was almost always fun and watching the interactions between us all was better than TV...a lot of fondness when I remember those times.

At some point, the band took to the stage in a low ceiling basement with, I'm sure, wood panelling on the walls. A few songs to entertain the masses...our swan song before life took over. And than back to the business at hand...drinking. The stereo replaced us with classics from the Doors, The Who, The Stones and whatever else the DJ of the night could come up with...the most important job at any party is the person controlling the music. You had to have American Pie near the end of the night so all could sing out their hearts. The obligatory Stairway to Heaven to allow for dark corners to be used properly. Throw in a little Ozzy or AC/DC to get the blood pumping. Avoid The Doors song The End, lest you want to bring the night down. I love the song, but not for a party. A few 80's songs would make it in to the mix to keep everyone sufficiently mollified...one can never underestimate the soundtrack of ones youth.

After a few hours absence for driving home my girlfriend I returned to catch up on my drinking, I had a reputation to live up to after all. The party was still going well although we had started to lose a few people here and there by midnight...the witching hour for some I suppose. The consumption of alcohol was slowing a bit, a few yawns could be seen and the music slowly became broodier. The die hards were still there at 3:00 in the morning but we were all starting to fade...a microcosm for the summer, for our high school days. Like this party slipping into the early morning and fading to memories, our lives within ROOI were doing the same.

The party was unrivalled in our addled minds. Music, booze and friends and that's all we ever needed. We didn't aspire to anything more than being with each other and having some laughs, it was the secret of our success in that final year...until reality and doing adult smacked us in the face we were happy as a pig in shit just doing our thing. Minor dramas and affairs of the heart sometimes got in the way but it rarely stopped us from being us. A glorious time in our lives fuelled by beer and music for our gang of misfits. The seasons turned and of course lives went off in other trajectories but like Bryan Adams sang, those were the best days of my life...I wouldn't trade those memories for anything.

Ciao
D