Sausage and Peppers and Rock and Roll

Remember when parents used tell their kids to turn off the rock and roll music?

Back in the day when I attended Baptist Youth Camp, one of the speakers called on the youth from my church to reject rock and roll. We were told to gather our collections of the devil’s music, bring them to church, and throw them into a bonfire. Begrudgingly, I sacrificed my copy of The Partridge Family album, thus protecting my soul from being led down the road to perdition by Keith Partridge. Eventually I backslid, and the music of The Eagles, Steely Dan, REO Speedwagon, Boston, The Cars, and Styx filled out the soundtrack to my childhood.

When I saw that Dennis DeYoung, former member of Styx, was playing at a local harvest fair my first thought was, “Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” Then I thought, “I wonder if teenage son would be interested in driving to the fair, eating some unhealthy but oh-so-delicious fair food for dinner, and going to the concert?” Instead of telling my son to turn off the music, I decided to drag him along with me for an evening of classic rock.  I had seen a PBS special featuring Dennis DeYoung, and knew that, in addition to having written many hit songs for Styx, the guy had some mad keyboard skills. Because music is teenage son’s love language and the keyboard is his instrument, I thought he might be willing risk the embarrassment of being seen in public with his gray-haired mother in order to see an aging rock star perform live.

After filling up on sausage and peppers, corn dogs, and soft-serve ice cream, son and I settled onto the fairground’s bleachers and watched as the roadies set up equipment and performed sound checks. Son was intrigued, fascinated by watching people who obviously knew what they were doing and were very good at performing their craft.

The stage lights dimmed, and out walked Dennis DeYoung, wearing the standard issue white sneakers of AARP members on bus tours throughout national parks. I was a little afraid to hear him sing. The long-haired rock star I remembered from my youth is now a sixty-three year old, white-haired man.

Once he launched into The Grand Illusion, however, I realized my fear was unfounded. At age sixty-three, Dennis DeYoung has a voice that is strong and clear and more in tune than most American Idol finalists orTaylor Swift on a good day. Man, can he sing.

And his keyboard skills? That man's fingers move in directions and at speeds that hardly seem human. I glanced over at teenage son. He was smiling big. He didn’t even seem to mind that I was singing along to all the songs. All the words. Out loud.

When introducing Babe, the most popular song Styx recorded, Mr. DeYoung introduced his back-up singer who also just so happened to be his wife of forty years. They had been high school sweethearts, had gotten married, traveled together on the road, and stayed married despite his living the life of a rock star. He told the crowd that he had written the song as a personal gift for his wife, that is, until his record company heard it and told him it had to go on the record. Turns out that was a good call by the record label. Every girl on the hall in my freshman dorm used to go weak in the knees whenever it played.

I have no idea about Dennis DeYoung’s worldview; neither about what motivates him to remain married to his childhood sweetheart over the long haul. I do know that I was privileged to witness a man doing what he was put on this earth to do—write and sing and play music, and honor his marriage vows.

And on a perfect autumn-like evening, the scent of fried foods hanging heavy in the air, I received the gift of connecting with my son while listening to the devil’s music.

Linking up with Emily at Chatting at the Sky, unwrapping the gift of connecting with my son.