We've Got a Thing That's Called Radar Love

Long before guitar hero, kids got together in their bedrooms, blasted the music and rocked out on their air instruments and sang at the top of their lungs. Marty and I were no exception.

Throughout the course of our lives Marty and I shared many musical moments. Seeing Paul McCartney and Pink Floyd at the old Browns Stadium. Seeing The Who on their “farewell” tour in 1982 and David Bowie on his “Let’s Dance” tour a year later. Listening to Genesis’ The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway and Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Free Bird” and “Tuesday’s Gone” around a Tidioute campfire. Even dancing on the bar at the Public House to Guns ‘n Roses’ “Paradise City” on my 25^th birthday (and yes there is a video tape!).

But there is one song that every time I hear it—it stops me dead in my tracks and transforms me into a child—Golden Earring’s “Radar Love.”

The image is so clear like it was just yesterday. And it is in fact, one of my earliest childhood memories and indeed one of the most vivid. Marty’s bedroom circa 1973. So, I was no more was like 4-5 years-old and Marty, a mere 10-11. He had the back bedroom at our home on Allien. There were three twin beds in the room at the time—most likely occupied also by Timmy and Ray. Posters all over the wall and clothes all over the floor.

But these posters were circa 1970s and they were black light posters! And, that Christmas, Marty (or one of the boys) got not only a black light, but a strobe light as well! And, the 45 record (many of you don’t probably remember them) of Golden Earring’s: Radar Love.

Marty and I would go up to his room. Turn out all the lights. Turn on the black light and the strobe light. Turn the volume all the way up on our portable turn-table. Drop the needle. And then we’d take our positions, start jumping on the bed, play our air guitars and sing at the top of our lungs….

I’ve been drivin’ all night my hand’s wet on the wheel

There is a voice in my head that drives my heel

And my baby calls that she needs me here

It’s a half past four and I’m shifting gear…

We got a thing and it’s called Radar Love

We got a wave in the air

Radar Love…Radar Love

We did this over and over and over again until finally “mom” would come upstairs and say…“turn that down and stop jumping on the beds! One of you are going to crack your head open!” (she was right…eventually, one day while we were jumping on the beds, I did crack my head open! And I’ve got the scar to prove it! The one above my right eyebrow that drives my esthetician crazy every time I go in to get my brows done.)

Needless to say. Everyone time I hear “Radar Love” I turn it up as loud as possible and sometimes, I even jump on the bed.

Faith, Hope, Pixie Dust

All you need is faith, hope and pixie dust! ~ Peter Pan

On my first official date with Marc, we met at a tattoo parlor. I was 28 years old and ink free. And, Marc… well he was 39 and not exactly ink-free. He had about 14 or so at the time but on that day…he was about to get his “last” (if you know Marc—it was certainly not!). But for me it was my first. And since then, I only have one more. 10 years later in honor of my beloved Marty.

But there we met. I walked into Finest Lines in Euclid with a Disney VHS of Peter Pan in my hand. Marc and our artist looked at me…like WTF…a Disney movie? What did we get ourselves into!

I had wanted to get a tattoo for years but needles, blood, pain…not my thing. And, Marc had finally given me the courage, but I had seen so many stupid tattoos in my life so, I wanted to be sure.

Being inked and living with a man and family who is very inked-up.—I’ve learned every tattoo has a story . And certainly, so do both of mine. But this first would always mark a first date, with someone who I was sure, at that time, would NEVER work out. Therefore, I wanted to make sure that it was something that meant something very special to me.

So I thought. What is important to me? What would always be important to me?

I ultimately decided on something Disney.

My love affair with Walt Disney and animation probably started with a choice not made by me. My mother decided to do my nursery in Winnie the Pooh.

Yet, most kids have rooms in childish fantasy…so I really don’t think that is it.

For me…it was a dream (or more like a nightmare.)

It was shortly after both my grandparents had died. (If you’ve read my blog, you know my grandparents were very special to me and like my parents). I had the dream when I was 9 years old.

At that time, I had never been to Walt Disney World but from pictures, I knew exactly what it looked like.

In that dream, I was at Disney World and ran into my grandparents. I was lost, crying, running down Main Street and frantically looking for my mother. And, then, I met up with my grandparents. I was RELIEVED to finally encounter someone I knew. People who made me feel safe and would always help me. I hugged them and said: “Thank God! I’m so happy to so you! Do you know where mom is?” And, my grandmother, replied “She is with us. You need to go now. You’re not meant to be here with us. We’re leaving and you can’t come with us.” And, then I saw them turn, walk away, toward Cinderella’s castle, holding hands with my mother.

I stood there in Main Street, alone and I knew what that meant. My mother was dead….but I wasn’t afraid. And, I didn’t try to run with them and be with them. I knew that I was where I was I needed to be. I was going in a different direction and like or not, without any of them.

The magic of Disney World surrounded me and I felt at peace.

Needless to , say I woke up in a cold sweat and immediately went to my mother’s room and crawled into her bed and her arms. It was a dream (thank God) and she was still with me.

But, it was at moment that I learned that the only person you could ever count on was yourself.

Sadly that memory stuck with me and to this day, I consider myself one of the most self-reliant people on the planet. But, as vivid as that memory is to me, so is that feeling, standing in Main Street….alone. That amazing magic surrounding me and that feeling—that everything would be okay. Faith, Hope, Pixie Dust.

Life has certainly taken me on a magical journey…as it has us all. It’s called life! And, I’m certainly not alone. I have an amazing family and support system. And, I’ve had a lot of people help me along the way.

So, when I thought about my first tattoo and what was really important to me. I thought about that dream, Disney and Tinkerbell.

I was raised uber-Catholic and was taught that Faith, Hope and Love were the most important things in life…Kinda…like Faith, Hope, Pixie Dust!

So, I showed up with my Disney VHS (no DVDs or BluRays in those days ) and despite the strange looks, said, “I want this picture of Tinkerbell, on the cover of the box…with her magic wand and pixie dust tattooed on my hip. As a reminder, of where I’ve been, where I’m going, and the hope of what might be.”

Two days later, Marty got in his fatal accident. As my tattoo wound was still healing—a new wound opened. And, I’ve spent the last 14 years trying to heal that wound and, vacillating between emotions---anger, regret, love, heart-ache! I’ve even sought professional help.

And, then recently, I had a break-though. It was my best friend who said to me—after the conversation inevitability turned to tears and my grief of Marty-- “You know what Sharon. You will NEVER get over it. Stop wasting your time. You just have to learn to live it.”

It was so simple. Like those fictitious words from my grandmother when I was standing in Main Street….that made me feel so safe, secure, and at that moment, I was ready to take flight.

And, I touched my tattoo thinking:

Faith: Complete trust or confidence in someone or something.

Hope: A feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen.

Pixie Dust: Magic dust from a fairy that allows humans to fly.

I’m ready to fly, move on and LIVE.