The summer of ’84 I was almost ten years old. Being ten was a big deal: double digit time… and with double digits came rewards. Upon turning ten, anyone who was anyone had immediate rights wear a bra to school, leave their high-top Cougar boot shoelaces untied and owned their very own bottle of Aquanet hair spray. In other words, turning double-digits was practically adulthood. As an almost-adult I felt that it was high time to start thinking about my future and being the planner that I am, I recognized the necessity to seek out some solid inspiration and guidance. I chose to follow the lyrical path clearly laid out by mighty 80’s rock-legend, Cyndi Lauper. Cyndi sang of ‘girls having fun’ and ‘she-bopping’ through life. In addition to these key messages, the chorus to ‘Time After Time’ was a shining light firmly guiding me in the direction of my destined bridegroom… Ricky Stratton Schroder, Silver Spoons god.
Before heading off to Doe Lake girl-guide camp, I drafted a love letter to Ricky declaring my desire to sit on his tiny train and ride around in big cirlcles through the living room of his Silver Spoon manison for all eternity. I also shared with Ricky my promise to take seriously my commitment to uphold the responsibilities that would inevitably accompany becoming heiress to the Eddie Toys empire. I included my grade four school picture and mailed my letter, convinced that for all intents and purposes I was basically engaged. It all seemed very sane and reasonable at the time, especially when fuelled by Cyndi’s shrewd words of encouragement.
My whole two weeks at camp I was on cloud-nine. I crafted up a storm, made mock toilet paper rolls for my blue bucket hat, constructed perfectly balanced kindling tee-pees, emphatically thanked Johhny Appleseed before every meal, patiently waited my turn to jump into the campfire Kum-Ba-Ah rounds and learned how to tie the best reef knot in my troop; all skills which would of course help me be a good wife to my betrothed. I was so happy in the knowledge that when I returned home, plane tickets to Hollywood would be waiting for me from Ricky, sent of course by the ever efficient and considerate, Kate Summers. I even practiced the speech I would recite to my parents where I would inform them I would be starting my grade five year as Mrs. Ricky Stratton Schroder.
There are defining times in each of our lives and for me, the summer of 1984 was one of those times. Cyndi knew what she was talking about more than I ever could have understood twenty-six years ago. I now know the true meaning of Cyndi’s songs, ‘Time After Time’, ‘ ‘She Bop’ and ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fun’. They talk about the struggles of true love, the benefits of self-love and the necessity of remembering not to take yourself too seriously. Turned out Cyndi was sending me a message after all, but it had nothing to do with Ricky Schroder. It’s likely a good thing my plane tickets got lost in the mail.
