My mom said "no," when I asked her. She said "absolutely not," when I begged her. My bangs were styled with utter precision and my stonewashed jeans longed to attend a rock concert. It was true, we didn't live close to where they were performing, but that was nothing more than logistics, as far as I was concerned. The year was 1986, and I wanted to be front and center, at the Bon Jovi, Slippery When Wet, concert. I was thirteen-years-old, and I was in love, with a rock band.
I remember a time when Bon Jovi was made up of five members, how I almost passed out from excitement the Christmas I received their Slippery When Wet cassette tape, the posters of Jon Bon Jovi which hung in my bedroom, and nearly all of Richie Sambora's guitar solos. They were, and still are, the coolest rock band of all time. They weren't a fad which died away, or a group of "bad guys" who sang a couple of cool songs and had more tattoos than hits, they are songwriters and artists whose music continues to keep me one of their biggest fans.
I went to my first Bon Jovi concert four years ago, on their Have a Nice Day Tour, with my younger sister, who is also a diehard fan. We screamed, danced, and sang along with the music. We vowed, as we walked out of the arena, with our ears ringing, that we would not rest until we saw Bon Jovi perform again. This is a promise I intend to keep.
Bon Jovi blared out of my tape deck twenty-three years ago, and I still listen to their music. Yesterday, I watched their new video "We Weren't Born to Follow," on MSNBC.com. I predict another hit for them on their upcoming album, The Circle. The song is amazing, the video is awesome, and I would expect nothing less.
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