I took my husband to see my boyfriend perform at Centre in the Square last week. A rare date night with my two favourite men: the Carpenter and Jim Cuddy.
The tickets were a birthday gift from a dear friend who bought them for me in July. I have been anticipating this concert for all those months. A night out. Live music. A mix of musical nostalgia and fresh storytelling from an artist I have followed from the start.
It had been two years since the last time we went out together to see a concert. Even long-time married folk can be awkward getting ready for a night out, when they’re trying to remember how to be who they were when they started out. The Carpenter by my side. He even wore his good baseball cap, because that’s as dressed up as he gets (and I’m good with that). I wore make-up and squeezed into my jeans. We aren’t fancy.
We had great seats looking out over the audience, where we realized we were among the younger set, which is fine, but it made for a subdued crowd. Nobody danced. Everyone stayed seated. Respectful clapping. No two-finger whistles or outbursts. It freaked me out.
Then it dawned on me, I saw Blue Rodeo for the first time in fall 1991 at Wilfrid Laurier’s Frosh Week, before I started dating the Carpenter, before switching to York University, changing my major, before even thinking of a career or owning a car, or being so far in debt that I can’t afford concert tickets anymore. My roots are silver. I can barely make it past 10pm. Aging is contagious.
This means my (imaginary) boyfriend is also aging. Not Keith Richards old, but like, you know, senior. That’s okay, because I have always had a thing for older men. It’s also a brilliant reminder that age is just a number. Talent, creativity, that spark that makes this girl, er, middle-aged woman want to stay up past 10 to see Cuddy perform, it’s ageless. His songwriting remains relevant and timely to the soundtrack of my life. (Note: I say middle-aged because I figure I still have a shot at meeting Keith Richards in person and he’s ancient, so I’ve got time).
Cuddy spoke of celebrating 40 years of marriage to his wife, who has gone through his career by his side. There is nothing sexier than a man who loves his wife. My (imaginary) boyfriend is hot.
That talk led to him playing one of my favourite happy Blue Rodeo tunes, “Head Over Heels.” From the first note, my mind was a slideshow of precious moments of a time that feels so long ago, but also feels like it was just yesterday.
Back when I was a nerdy student with dreams of academia, and the Carpenter’s trade took him on adventures to Barbados and Bermuda. Long-distance. Waiting for that phone to ring. Waiting at the airport. Short visits. And those goodbyes. Learning to trust someone with all your heart.
Cuddy was singing the story of us at a fragile time that made us stronger. The lyrics brought it all home: “I know one night together won’t make up for ten apart, but I’m as steady as rain. Nothing ever changes in my heart.”
Good memories of tough times that were marked with sweetness. Love as steady as rain. Cuddy gets it. Nothing ever changes in my heart.
