A lifelong friend of mine is going through a rough spot. Man trouble, kid trouble, work trouble and (I suspect) money trouble. She has been finding respite in a gentler past, which includes … gulp … Barry Manilow.
She saw Barry Manilow at Ravinia decades ago and he rocked her world. OK. I think some of his stuff can be fun and entertaining. I have maybe a half dozen of his songs on my iPod. I also have Helen Reddy and Bobby Sherman on my iPod. I have great affection for some pop songs because of who I was, where I was, when they were hits. I know that they certainly aren't art, but they mean something to me.
My friend's love of Manilow goes deeper. She has romantic, sexual fantasies about him. She thinks he's a great artist. She thinks he could have been the next Gene Kelly or Frank Sinatra.
Shudder. But what they hey. If it makes her happy, there's no harm.
She chats with other Fanilows on internet boards. This to me is the fascinating part. Through her I have been exposed to an entire world of Fanilows. They write about him, take umbrage on all who cast aspersions on his sexuality, express disgust toward those who dismiss his music as "schmaltz," rejoice in his recent Emmy nomination, and, most interestingly of all, live in terror of his management company … Stiletto. Apparently Stiletto has supernatural powers. Fanilows seem to believe Stiletto can control their blogs and their thoughts. Anyone who says anything even slightly negative about Barry Manilow is going down, baby.
He's Barry Manilow. He's not even Taylor Hicks. It's not like all the major magazines and news shows are clamoring for his time. Yet these folks believe he's so hot that this band of brass-knuckled image protectors are out there, guarding this evergreen man of the hour/year/decade/lifetime.
If Barry Manilow has such a passionate legion of true believers, does that mean every 70s artist who had more than one gold record also has them? What about KC and the Sunshine Band? Helen Reddy? Tony Orlando? Glen Campbell? Right now, could I be trading fond recollections of the red flannel shirts and stutter that made Bobby Sherman's TV persona so compelling to me back in 7th grade?
I know that mystery authors have serious message boards that inspire discussion. But this is new to me. The good thing, I guess, is that the Internet provides people with a sense of community they simply can't get anywhere else. It doesn't matter if you're emailing about "Mandy" or posting about your post card collection. You've found someone who shares your interest, and it makes you feel a little less lonely.
I am not sure how I stumbled upon your blog a month or so ago but I did and have enjoyed reading what you write. You have made me laugh and brought me to tears almost (kidding but you will know what I mean) I moved from Chicago last Christmas so your last wanderings through the hallowed halls of my Sacret Favorite Place brought back so many memories. I am, of course, speaking of Marshall Fields. Today when I read "Bobby Sherman" I decided I just had to write. Do you know that "Here Come the Brides" was recently put on DVD. It is hysterical to watch. I actually forgot how he stuttered in the show. I believe we probably both came of age in the 70's and it is funny when memories come flying back. I live on island now and it is quite different than Chicago!!!!In most ways a million times better but I miss Chicago Hot Dogs, Chicago Pizza, Michigan Avenue, Navy Pier, The
ReplyDeleteDrake Hotel and so many other things.
Good Luck in the future and keep up your writing as you are very good!
Someone You Have Made Laugh
Thank you for the positive comment! And I'm glad I made you laugh. What island do you live on? (And how could it be better than Chicago?)
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