Saturday, August 29, 2015

CHICAGO THE BAND: Heart and Soul Tour 2015


CHICAGO THE BAND ~Molson Ampitheatre~ HEART AND SOUL TOUR 2015

August 29, 2015 at 11:46pm
I'll admit, I've been a Chicago stalker since 1993. Ok, maybe stalker is a little harsh. Follower? Fan? By no means a groupie. I have never been backstage, although I would have given my left arm to ogle Bill Champlin in the flesh and get a pic with him.

Something about those horn-blaring, keyboard-playing, sexy older dudes just made my heart pump and pulse quicken. Now, 22 years later, I still get a rush when I watch them on stage.

Have I gone mad? my mother used to ask me, when I was a kid of 16. As a hazel-eyed, precocious, dreamer of a girl who spent her Sunday nights glued to the radio for Casey Kasem's Countdown of the Top 20 Hits in the land, I was a certified odd duck. While other girls were out cruising in cars in boys, going to raves or bush parties, and lighting blunts, I was in my room like the perfect little Bible thumping, goody two-shoes, penning her romance novels, aka Danielle Steel style and shrieking when Cetera came on the radio with a 70s or 80 classic like Old Days or You're The Inspiration.

No, Mommie Dearest, I did not lose my marbles. I simply found a band that spiked my heart rate better than any Stones or washed up rock band could do. All the other girls worshipped Kurt Cobain or Brad Pitt, but I had the image of Peter Cetera plastered all over the walls of my tiny room. She panicked, thinking I was going to run off to Idaho and find him.

When I discovered Cetera had left in 1985, I was bummed out, to say the least. But then, in June 1993, I decided to take a shot at seeing the boys in concert at a tiny pavilion called the Ontario Place Forum in Toronto. I spent six weeks cutting grass on the one acre spread at home, and my dad paid me a meager $15 a week. It was the Chicago concert, though, come hell or high water!!

There is a point to this rambling. And I will get to it. The band's review is here, beneath the plethora of gushing. I promise.

From that pleasant first night of summer, in 1993, I was hooked on Jason and the boys. That was when Mister Scheff wore those black sleeveless shirts, flaunting his huge biceps and adorable mop top of curls. Bill had that sexy growl, black leather vest and long silver hair in a poni-tail. Robert wore black spandex pants and a big purple shirt, hair in a blunt cut just grazing the shoulder.

Over the years, the guys from the Windy City have never let me down. Each show, mainly in the Toronto area, was fantastic. Back in the '90s, they played Kingswood Music Theatre at Canada's Wonderland or Casina Rama. Each time, my mother groaned, fussed, argued, and tried to come against my passion of "those old men again. When are you gonna grow out of this phase and give it up?" All the while, her condescending words fell on deaf ears. My sister and I got on that GO bus and headed for the show. I'm a stubborn Taurus, so I usually get my way. Miss a once-a-year show to see my boys? I'd rather die.

Fast forward to 2015. Now, with a new vocalist and keyboard player replacing Champlin, I wasn't keen on hearing him sing. After all, I'd been spoiled by Jason and Bill singing "Hard Habit To Break" with that perfect blend of harmonies. The smokey, blues tone of Bill and the Cetera-esque vocals of Jason. How could a fill-in possibly emulate that?

Soon enough, I would find out I was wrong. I needed to give the "new guy" a chance. Who was I to judge this Lou Pardini character, anyways? I hadn't heard a single note he ever sung. Come off it, girl. Just swallow your pride.

Earth, Wind and Fire were on double-billing with the boys. This was going to be a big deal!! Earlier in the week, I was stoked to be caller #7 on the local radio station CKDO when Chris Coppin answered the phone and asked: "CKDO...who is this?" I remember jumping up and down, shrieking, because for the life of me, I'd never won tickets to see my favorite band. For years, I'd spent piles of money on the tickets, never having the thrill of winning them for free. Here now was the moment, and I couldn't be happier.

My sister and I arrived at the gig early. The lineup was huge. No one was let through the main gates til 6:40 p.m., and when finally, we all started milling through, I could feel my anxiety rising. Dammit, get me to the Keg pavilion pronto! You see, just that afternoon at 2:00 p.m., I was stoked to hear from The Keg restaurant on twitter. They'd seen my Chicago-tagged tweet from the night before, stating how excited I was to see Jason and the crew. The Keg sent me a private message: "We'll be there, too, Rochelle. Tell us the number of people in your group, and we'll have complimentary drinks and food for everyone on the house." All I remember was running out of the house with fire in my heels and amped to the max to get to that concert. Free tickets to my favorite band AND free drinks and food? The gods must be smiling on me!!What the hell was happening with my karma lately?It seemed to be on steroids.

Finally, arriving at the venue, having some drinks and SUPERB appetizers, we all mingled with a small crowd. We were given laminated passes to wear around our necks. Sauntering around with food in one hand and a drink in the other, I was right in my glory.

Chicago came onto the stage around 7:45 p.m. The crowd went wild. They started the show with "Beginnings," their classic hit from the early part of their career. Robert sounded smooth as ever. I watched him on the jumbo screen and turned to my sister. "Does that man never age? Look at that full head of hair. He's 70 but looks 55."

All the guys dress so well. Stylish jeans and a dark blazer, mostly. All sexy, all perfect eye candy for the ladies in the crowd. Something happens to a Chicago fan when we witness the guys come to the stage. There's a collective moment of awe, then the cheering erupts. The chill through the body. The heart rate elevated. Our mood spikes, we become one with each other, all 16,000 of us.

This concert rocked my socks. Every song was pure magic, people grooving, dancing, laughing. Happy faces flooded the crowd and the joy that spread through that place was phenomenal.

The show ran about 3 hours and was well worth every penny. No bad review here. What else can I say? The weather was perfect, 18c/64f, not a cloud in site. The Full Moon shone in a cloudless sky, and the boats dotted the harbour over pristine Lake Ontario.

Jason and the guys covered all their big hits like "Make Me Smile" and "25 or 6 to 4," and sang their hearts out. When Mr. Scheff belted out the classic "Street Player," I shrieked with delight. It's thrilling to hear the band revisit some old hits that were not previously covered in the set. I've heard over the years that they really love their fans. There's no such thing as a bad Chicago performance, and I'll vouch for that.

So when the new guy on keyboards came out and rocked the keys with his blond-streaked hair, black vest, white shirt and black pants, I was a believer. Gone was Champlin and his signature growl, but in his place was a soulful crooner named Lou Pardini.
At the risk of sounding weird, I'll confess I have a thing for Mr. Lou. Besides, what's not to love? Slick vocals, killer style and sex appeal that makes any hot-blooded woman from age 35-55 swoon with lust. Okay, okay. I'm being a little extra, but you get the picture.

Moral of the story, my boys did the show justice. They gave us a stellar performance, and made us proud of their 48 years of fantastic music. We came, we saw, we drank, we ate, we swooned. The band conquered.

By the end of the night, this tired little Chicago fan crawled into bed exhausted, yet fulfilled. Happy and sated, because my head was ringing with Robert crooning the words to Dialogue Part 1 & 2.
The last thing I remember was putting a clip of Lou on my smartphone, belting out "Call On Me" from the Montreal concert in 2012. Then I fell into a deep, satisfying slumber, with visions of hot older guys dancing in my head.
You're welcome, Mother.




Saturday, August 22, 2015

Closing A Chapter: Grief and Transitioning

While this blog is mainly about passion, following your heart's desire and finding true love, let me shift the focus for a moment to the one thing that affects us all at one point in our life: GRIEF.

Now, I'm not here to be a Debbie Downer or Negative Nancy. I don't want to make your sunny Saturday any less cheerful.

But for a minute, just hear me out. GRIEF is powerful. It's a heavy-hitting human emotion. It can steal the wind from your lungs. It can knock you off your pedestal, rob you of a lifetime of joy. Once where only bubbly happiness resided in your peppy soul, now a flood of darkness and hopeless despair has crept in, choking that giddy girl or smiling guy.

When GRIEF hits, look out!

Recently, the home I've lived in since I was five years old was sold to a developer. I knew this day was coming, did not want to come to terms with it. Oh sure, I've been warned for years. The family heirloom was going to be sold off for a handsome sum of money, leaving the seniors to retire and downsize.

This place has been my saving grace, my EVERYTHING. If anyone were to label someone or something their "lifetime love" then I would indeed dub this place exactly that. I don't think my heart could be owned by someone in the same way it's ruled by this old homestead. Here's an excerpt from my memoir, to be released in the coming months:

Chapter One 

When the news broke, it devastated me.  
They were selling my home. 
A part of me felt robbed. A part of me that I could never get back. I'd moved here at five years old and basically grew from shy, pig-tailed wallflower to outspoken, jaded adult. Everything that encompassed my life began and ended in this place. 
I recall the summer thunderstorms, the fallen trees, and the bewildering clash of thunder. Those were some awful, but magnificent storms. The smell of the rain falling on the meadow. There was nothing like it. Part moss and part hot, sticky air. 

Summer nights from age 16-21, planted by the radio in my small room, listening to the radio broadcast LOVERS AND OTHER STRANGERS. These nights defined me. They inspired my own romance writing, and I learned a world of wealth in the articles, poems and love songs that were played. Encapsulated in my heart and mind, these memories are forever branded. No other era of my life felt so real, so joyful. I cannot express what life felt for me, listening to that show and feeling those hopeful feelings for the future. I had big dreams for a young, awkward teen with no worldly experience. Those hot nights led to a flood of romantic passages and powerful prose. They were truly a definitive part of shaping my author experience.

My parents never had air conditioning til I was grown up and out of the house. I sweltered in my tiny room all summer, with a cold face cloth and small fan. 
In Autumn, the towering Oaks would morph from summer green to flaming red and burnt orange. They were spell binding. I took many pictures, every autumn. It was my favorite season. I worshiped it. Finally, cooler weather, where I was comfortable and happy. Firewood burning in old chimney's across town and the occasional rain and cobalt skies. Crisp leaves crunching under foot, and kids begging for candy in freakish costumes. This is how I remember my charming little Southern Ontario town. 
Winters spent here with the oil furnace cranked. The old, drafty floors and outdated windows brought that chill to the bones. Yet, I nestled under warm covers and slept better here than any place on earth. There was a peace to this place, as though angels blessed it. Set on fifty acres of lush greenery before the greedy developers decided to take the land, it was a paradise. I still cling to every childhood memory of running in wheat fields or playing in the hayloft. Summers of manhunt in the corn fields or a bonfire with roasted marshmallows before the city people moved in to rat us out to the fire department. Riding my jet black filly "Cadeau" (fittingly, French for "gift"--a 13th birthday present). The forest behind the house was magical, my own prayer garden. I would run away there when Mom was cruel and spiteful. It was a safe haven, a place to be heard by a Higher Power that sheltered me.
Now, some thirty years later, so much has changed, to the landscape, and to me. 
Sitting here on my Toshiba Satellite laptop, I write by candlelight. Years have passed, bittersweet years of pain, hardship, joy and some good memories too. 
Losing the homestead is killing me. 
This place is my first love and undeniably, my last. 
Where do I begin? To tell the story of a place that owns every corner of my sentimental soul? 
(end of memoir passage)


I hope this blog entry sheds light on what grief means to me. The whole point here is to just identify that stages of our lives will experience highs and lows. That change is constant, and to go against it is to deny our own evolution. While change is functional and healthy, it also warrants the need for a season of grief and self examination. We must embrace all the feelings of the change, and let ourselves feel the grief, sadness, loss and anger. Like any loss or breakup, to move forward, we must transition through the stages of this change.

Female friends -- one or two that I've confided in-- don't seem to get it. They chant "cheer up, dude, change is for the best."
But I cringe at their lackluster comebacks. They have no idea what they're talking about. They never lived here, loved here, had their first child here, wrote a string of passionate books, while also losing and finding themselves in this place. I've left here twice and come back again when those marriages failed. Let me tell you, there's no place on earth like this one.

So, in closing...to those clueless people in your circle who slap you on the back and tell you to "cheer up, life goes on." They have no right to tell you how to FEEL and at what pace to progress or to just "move on."

Grief needs healing and subsequent closure. Take your time, cry, weep, wallow over the loss. Let the reality sink in. Let the wounds heal. Then pick yourself back up.

Sure, change is good, they say. You'll love it over here, they say.

THEY don't know what they're talking about.

Own your story. Live your life. Never back down. Stay true to you.

Cheering for you always.

Stay passionate,

xo RR xo

Monday, August 3, 2015

Fall In Love With Yourself

I recall the loneliest times of my life and they make me cringe.

Wounded by a failed second marriage, I carried the pain around for years. Four at least, before I moved on, let the wounds start to heal, and file for the divorce. This did not happen overnight. Along the way, I met quite a few people who helped me see the light. Men who made me smile, helped me flirt with the idea of coupledom by raising my self confidence and boosting my ego.

Prior to filing for the divorce, I had to forgive myself for failing at marriage again. Forgiveness of self is truly instrumental in the quest to finding love. Without it, we hold onto baggage and self deprecation, causing a delay in our growth and hindering our own mental health.

What did I discover in these single years? What magic elixir did I drink to come to this big life changing epiphany?

The answer, simply, was to discover who I was all over again. I needed to accept me, flaws and all, including my shadow side, with all the parts of me that I thought others did not like. First on the list: clumsy. Second: left-handed. Third: just plain misfit. Our destructive self talk is really powerful, and most of us don't realize what negative doom we are manifesting when we bash ourselves or undermine our own magic.

How could I expect to summon love into my life, if I was blaming myself for all that had happened in the past? Becoming my own worst enemy was not the recipe for healing a broken heart. No one can move onward and upwards if they're playing the blame game from yesterday. Dude, that is so, like, 2008.

Did I not realize that I was truly 1 in 7 billion? No other person alive has my DNA codes; the mold was broken when I came along. Realizing this made me suddenly jolt back to reality. Being this unique suddenly gave me an advantage I had never seen before.

Self love is so crucial. We cannot call love into our lives if we don't love ourselves FIRST.

Why is that? Because if you don't love yourself, you don't know what you want, need or deserve. Then you wander around, lost and clueless, searching for something you just can't seem to define. It's like having an invisible list of tasks or goals with no real aim. Get real about who you are and what you want. Things will soon fall into place.

Once you accept your darkness and light --in turn, embracing your essence-- all the lovely components that make up the masterpiece of YOU become crystal clear. Soon, you're living a charmed life that is robust, colorful and passionate. There is no regret, no second guessing, and you experience a FREEDOM that is so amazing. Breathe in the calm of having nothing to prove, and no one to prove it to. You will care less about what others think, too. The liberation is pure bliss.

It's a shame how people run from the beauty of who they were born to be. Stand in the mirror, look at the person staring back at you. What do you see? Let me remind you that being single doesn't mean you are worthless. Think of the benefits to being alone at this time. There's no one to answer to, no one to impress but yourself. You can put on that favorite song and crank it REALLY LOUD without offending that partner in the house.

Learn to romance yourself. Take a walk on the beach during sunset, sit on a vista and watch the city lights glittering in the distance, browse lovely thrift shops and find nostalgic items, spoil yourself with a new dress or outfit at a boutique, go to a movie that only YOU would love. Bonus point: you don't have to fret or argue with your date over which flick to see. No compromising here. Myself, I go to concerts in the city alone, or to karaoke --solo--if I can't find a friend who is free on a Thursday or Sunday night. Heck, I'll show up in my diva glory, belt out some Motown gem by Mary Wells or wow the crowd with a rockin' Shania tune. In my element, it's truly phenomenal. It feels like I'm home, and the joy bursting from my heart seems to light up the whole room. It doesn't matter if I show up to these places alone. Because I've learned to love my own company, there's always a new friend I meet along the way, and I'm pushed off my couch and out of the comfort zone. There's life out there! Go and see for yourself. Go ahead, grab these moments while you can.

Self love is a beautiful journey of the soul that begs us to truly look inside ourselves and find the jewel that is waiting to be awakened again, after so many years of a deep sleep. Divorce or heartbreak can really destroy our self esteem and make us feel broken down, ugly, or unloveable. Remember, though, that you are transitioning and moving forward, so take the time you need to heal those battle scars, but don't dwell too long there. You can become too comfortable in bitterville, letting the heartache seep into your soul, and rob you of the dazzling potential that is waiting to be discovered.

I truly hope that you will learn to fall in love with the majestic person you are. One in seven billion, baby. Now THAT is something to be proud of.

As always, keep the passion alive.

Cheering for you,

xx RR xx