For Vicki

Rick Springfield has a copy of my first novel, Dream in Color and that's due to a wonderful lady named Vicki.

I'm telling you this because Vicki passed away last week, ironically enough a short time, maybe hours,  before she was to see her beloved Rick Springfield in concert.


Though I'd only spoken to her a few times, I thought of Vicki as a friend.  She and her best friend, Wendy, were fellow fans of Rick Springfield and that is a sisterhood, for sure.

I met Vicki through Wendy.  Wendy, a few years ago, heard me talking on the radio about my book, a rock and roll romance with a Rick-like main character.  She and Vicki reached out to me and Vicki told me she knew Rick and that she could have me meet him.

I won't lie, I had my misgivings.  I mean, right, she really knew Rick Springfield.

Turns out, she did.  She was able to get a copy of my book to him, (so now he has an autographed copy of my book) and he signed one of my books for me.  (I keep it on my desk as a reminder that dreams can and do come true.)  She also made good on the promise for me to meet him, even though that darling woman had to all but tackle him in a bowling alley.  (And that's a great story, let me tell you!)  Thanks to Vicki, I was able to have the greatest thirty seconds of my life.

Vicki had been ill, but her dedication to all things Rick was undeterred and I envied Wendy and her as Wendy posted new pictures about their Rick adventures.  Vicki's smile and her spirit glowed in every one.

Vicki passed away late last week.  Wendy and I, it turned out, were at the same concert that night  (it was a big place, we didn't see each other).  On my way home I got a text from Wendy giving me the bad news.  My heart goes out to Wendy, who lost in Vicki a very dear friend and concert buddy.

In thinking about Vicki this week, I'm reminded how closely we are all connected in this life, even though we don't think we are.  If I hadn't written that book, if I hadn't done that radio interview, I would never have met Vicki and Wendy, and I sure would not have had that beautiful, awkward, hilarious moment with Rick Springfield.

It's those random connections we make, that matter.  Vicki made more of an impact on my life with one kind act than most of the people I've known for years.  She gave me more confidence in my writing life than any of my family members, and she did it just because she could and she wanted to.

We all have that person in our lives, or maybe if we don't, maybe we should be that person in someone else's life.  I know that since meeting my two "Rick Chick" friends I've been more aware of the people around me and what I can do to just make their lives.  I haven't found that amazing thing yet, but I know I will.  When I do, I will look heavenward and say, "this is for you, Vicki."

This isn't about charity or some big picture "tapestry of mankind" thing.  This is about looking around and seeing a moment when you can do something unexpected for someone, maybe even a complete stranger.  This is about doing something nice for someone...and you may not even realize the impact you have on their lives after that.

I call on all of you to take a moment and think about this:  Is there something you have or can do...no matter how small you think it is...that would change someone's life forever?

I challenge everyone who reads this to ponder it.  And when you find that thing, when you are able to give someone the best 30 seconds of their life, I want you to do it for Vicki.

Why do we do it?

Good morning!

So I'm between Rick Springfield concerts at the moment...went to one Wednesday and I have one tomorrow, so I'm in a hovering state of "WHOO HOO!" right now.

My mother doesn't understand why I go to Rick concerts every year.  She praises my husband for his patience with me and my "weird" activity.  Thing is, I think she's the one who's "weird" because having an admiration, a crush, on a celebrity is something that is not just the topic of my first novel Dream in Color but is something I believe every human holds on to for life.

Why.  Why do we do it?  Why do we hold an affection for a musician we have never met and do not know on a personal level?  Why do we fork over piles of money for t-shirts, Cd's, concert tickets,  memorabilia?

Why do we stand in line in the scant hope we can have a moment with the musician we love?

It might be a complex question for some people, but for me it's very easy.  Let me see if I can paint a picture for you.

When I'm at a concert, I'm not a mom, I'm not an employee, and I'm not a wife.  The years and the pounds and the aches and pains fade away as the curtain rises and the first notes of the music stream from the stage right into my heart.  In that moment, in that span of time I'm sixteen again.  I work so I can buy things I like, not to pay the light bill.  I am thin and young and free.  I can dance and there's no one to be embarrassed.  I can sing at the top of my lungs and there's no one there to tell me to be quiet.  Every lyric of every song brings to mind a picture from my life, good and bad, and in the middle of a swirling mass of music and screaming fans, I can celebrate where I've been, where I am, and where I'm going.

It's a rare thing, I think, for a deep connection like this to happen.  We all have that one musician that makes us feel that way, but I believe we all only have one, maybe two at best.  This isn't about just enjoying the music.  That I could do very little effort and cost in the privacy of my own home.  But we go to the concerts because we need to see the musician's connection to the song.  We need to know that the poetry that that musician wrote still means something to him/her, and that in the performance of that song, we bridge the gap between musician and fan.

Taking this one step further, I believe it's why many of us write.  I don't think there's an author out there who isn't inspired by some kind of music.  You all know I create soundtracks for every book I write.  We write stories, in part, because something in a song nags at us until we do.  Maybe a song paints  very clear picture for us.  For me, I can't listen to anything by Matchbox 20 without thinking about the hero of  my upcoming "Lies in Chance" because something in Rob Thomas' voice paints such a clear picture of my Bryan that even if I'm in the grocery store...if "3 AM" comes over the muzak, I have to stop what I'm doing and think about that character.

So my friends, I write because I'm inspired to by the music I love.  And I go to Rick Springfield concerts because that's the music that inspires me the most.  And it's the music that transforms me into a better version of me.  Oh, and he's super hot to watch when he's performing live!  (That doesn't hurt, right?)

And now...go forth and WRITE!

Every group of Barbies needs a Fluffy girl.

So I'm starting to come down from my 1.2 second meeting with Rick Springfield. I'm down enough to remember that there was a concert on Friday night that I enjoyed thoroughly! He puts on such a high energy show, you can't even qualify it by saying, "For a guy who's 60." Nah, for any guy, he puts on a great show, and Friday was no exception!

Since I was sitting in the second row of the balcony, however, my attention was not as focused on Rick as it would have been if I'd been in the second row on the floor. Which means I actually took a few moments to absorb impressions of the folks around me. (Hey, I'm an author, it's what I do.)

The group of women in front of me really caught my attention, not because they were wearing glow in the dark bunny ears (those ladies were sitting to my right) and not because they had a blow up dog dressed as Ron, the dog on the cover of Rick's "Working Class Dog" album. (those ladies had seats on the main floor.) No, what struck me about the women in front of me was the fact that there were two very skinny ladies and one...fluffy girl.

You see this all the time, but especially at concerts. In a group of women, there will be at least one girl who is a bit more...healthy. (I'm that person in my group, so I get to write this without offending anyone.) I've always wondered if the fluffy girl feels like a fifth wheel or anything like that. I know I do sometimes, which is probably why I make up for it by being a bit louder a bit funnier, a bit more jovial.

As I watched these three women I realized that I was looking at this all wrong. The fluffy girl isn't the tag along. She's not the one the Barbie dolls have to bring along. She's the anchor! She's the most important person in the group. Again, she's the anchor!

What do I mean? Easy. Sitting in the balcony, Barbie one and Barbie two were slamming plastic cups of white wine at a pace well beyond their weight class. And, since they were precariously perched on spiked heels built for altitude, as they got tipsy, they started wobbling as they leaned on the railing of the balcony. Leaning to the point of nearly falling into the laps of the partiers below.

Fluffy girl to the rescue!

She steadied both those Barbies and kept them from crashing over the railing several times during the concert. She helped them out of their seats after the concert and I'm sure she drove them home and tucked them into their beds.

So, thinking about it, I realized that every group of Barbies needs a fluffy girl to act as an anchor so when the Barbies play too hard, the fluffy girl protects them from harm.

If you are a Barbie, be kind to your Fluffy girl friend. She's the one you'll be leaning on someday. If you are a Fluffy girl, I salute you! You are my sister, and this world needs more of you! (And, by the way, I wrote Dream in Color with the Fluffy girls in mind.)

Cheers!