One of my brother’s infamous parties was going on downstairs in the basement.  He didn’t have to return to Columbus for a couple weeks, so I guess he felt one more bash was justified before he left for college. In the past, I had sat upstairs and watched a video while the music thumped through the basement door, but this year was different. I was a freshman in high school and I knew some of the people downstairs. Furthermore, I was deemed old enough (not “cool enough,” mind you) to join the older kids in the basement.

I may have been the youngest person in the room, and I didn’t care. Sitting on the second-hand, musty green couch, located right next to the stereo, I stared as the few girls I knew  (just a year ahead of me) made out with guys two or three years older than them. I studied the techniques of concealing alcohol in plastic cups in case my parents decided to make an unexpected visit. Mostly, though, I just listened to music and got to play DJ. I was spinning The Big Chill soundtrack, that collection of ’60s hits that started the Hollywood trend of marketing movies to the sound of nostalgia and oldies. I hadn’t seen the movie yet; it wasn’t on my list of must-see videos — it didn’t have blood and guts or lowbrow humor. But I loved the songs compiled by writer/director Lawrence Kasdan. While I tapped my foot and did some dorky air drumming to Marvin Gaye and The Rascals, I felt the couch shift as someone sat down next to me. (more…)