And They Called It Puppy Love

In grade school, we used to be provided an opportunity to bring in our own records at the end of music class on Fridays. Not everyone participated as not every is that involved in music, but for those of us that were, it was like a little social gathering where we sat around, listened to records, and talked about whatever it was that kids in grade school talk about.
I remember being intrigued by girls at a young age. I had my share of guy friends, but I was continually on the make to try and impress the ladies, and music was one way I could do this.
I learned that Rochelle Morningstar really liked that Terry Jacks song “Seasons In The Sun.” So when she invited me to her birthday party, I bought her the single as a gift. When she asked me if I thought the song was the cat’s meow, I lied and told her that I liked it. In reality, I fucking hated “Seasons In The Sun,” but I liked the idea of eventually kissing Rochelle, so I became a fan of that awful song.
It’s probably obvious that things between Rochelle and me didn’t work out in the long run as our entire relationship was based on a lie.
I moved on to more of a tomboy, a strawberry-blonde girl with lots of freckles named Joni Winters. Joni was a riot, and she seemed to like my jokes too. I liked making her laugh and watching her hold her ground to nearly every dude in the playground. If I ever found myself in a pinch, there was a good chance that Joni could get me out of it by merely using her fists.
I went on a date with Joni…my first ever…and my parents thought it was a cute idea. They would tease me about it and jokingly ask if I planned on kissing her. The date was going to see The Apple Dumpling Gang, a shitty child’s movie starring Don Knotts and Tim Conway that was really beneath our comedic level even though it was directly targeted to our age group. My dad drove us to the theatre and within minutes, we were bored with the shitty plot line. Joni thought it would be better to make our own entertainment, and began throwing M&Ms at the head of a kid who sat a few rows ahead of it. Trying to impress her, I began doing the same but accidentally hit the person sitting next to him. The person stood up and I immediately saw that it was the kid’s mom. She scowled at us and walked past us to go towards the door. Soon afterwards, the manager of the theatre came and got Joni and I and took us the lobby. He scolded us and told us that we would be ejected from the theatre if we didn’t stop. The lack of fear on Joni’s face was priceless…I was so proud of her and in awe of her ambivalence…But the idea of having to call my Dad to ask him to come pick us up before the movie ended was of real concern to me.
It wasn’t long after we returned back to our seats before Joni suggested that we split, agreeing to get back to the front of the theatre around the same time that my Dad had scheduled to pick us up. We didn’t do anything, I didn’t get a kiss out of the deal, and we passed the time buying candy at the drug store down the street and looking at 45s at the music store.
When it came time for our musical show and tell, I knew that I needed to bring something uber-cool to impress this chick. I brought the new Aerosmith single about a “missy who was ready to play” while Joni brought something I had never heard before on A&M Records. The single was called “Love Hurts” by Nazareth, and Joni told me in private that she was going to have the teacher play the flip side, “Hair Of The Dog,” because it had bad words on it. It took the teacher until the second “Now you’re messing with a son of a bitch” before she ran over to the record player and changed songs.
Joni came from the wrong side of town, literally, and before long she was forced to change to one of the more “rough” schools on the south-side of town. At that time, there was a lot more fluidity between social status, but the next time I saw Joni was years later in Middle School, where clear distinctions in economic strata were placed. Joni stuck with her “kind” of people while I floated around with the more popular crowd, trying to make an impact on the popularity scale.
I was, in fact, cordial with her and the ironic thing was that I noticed more of a change in her than with me. I would have given anyone who was nice to me the time of day, but I think that she felt more uncomfortable with socializing with a “north side” boy that I was with her crowd. She excelled at basketball and track, which allowed her some access to the preppies, but after practice and during social settings, she remained with the denim jacket group. The kind that listened to Nazareth.
At the end of 7th grade, Joni moved to another town. My first ever girlfriend had gone, occasionally coming back when her new school played our town in basketball. Something tells me that, regardless of where she lived, her taste in music was probably similar as it was in the third grade. And to this day, whenever I hear Nazareth, I think of her.

Side note: I had the chance to see Nazareth in the early 90's during a weeknight performance at one of Southeast Iowa's summer festival. A major storm was approaching and the show was sparsely attended. I wasn't expecting much, and looked for ways to get out of being there for the show. The weather provided me with an opportunity to leave early, but before I did, I had to do a couple of radio remote broadcasts that I taped to make it sound like I was at the event. The band, knowing that they probably wouldn't be able to do a full set, started early while I was still there. To my surprise, they rocked. They were supporting their No Jive album and, aside from a new guitarist, contained pretty much the same line-up as they had when they last sported a U.S. hit. Small crowd, small town, and even the encroaching shitty weather didn't seem to phase these guys; they played a great set until lightening forced the festival personnel to shut down the show and the other festivities. Nazareth are still going at it and they're celebrating their 40th anniversary this year.