My Jon Bon Jovi Moment

Going down memory lane with the New Jersey rock icon--and my gradual thunderstruck realization of just how much time has passed since our brief interaction.

The passage of time takes time to sink in sometimes.

A few weeks ago, Jon Bon Jovi showed up at my house. Well, to be more precise, his image was on the cover of AARP The Magazine.

I have a soft spot for Bon Jovi¹ since we met in March 1987—ever so briefly, mind you.

As a college freshman, I had gotten hooked on “Living on a Prayer” and “You Give Love a Bad Name.” So, there I was at the UIC Pavilion with a gaggle of classmates (and 2% percent of the Chicago metro area’s adolescent girls) right up against the stage. No clue how we got so close.

Toward the end of the (kick-butt) concert, Bon Jovi strolled over and leaned forward to shake hands with his adoring fans. I offered my right hand up to grasp his. Being well versed in stretching and straining for a rebound in basketball—and boxing out those around me—I secured my moment with Jon. It wasn’t that hard: at 6-foot-1, I towered over all the tween and teen girls who dominated my particular area.

He gave me a friendly New Jersey native clasp, not some slippery slap but the kind of sincere greeting you’d expect from a guy who just moved in a few doors down.

Eighteen-year-old me was pretty pumped up about this half-second with Jon, just two days past his 25th birthday. What has helped preserve the moment is that I've never come anywhere close to duplicating it since, largely because I've never come anywhere that close to a big concert stage again.

Doing an admirable job of downplaying this kindred connection we had just formed, Jon moved on like a champ.

This pleasant memory played in my mind when I saw the rock ‘n’ roll icon’s 62 year-old mug on the magazine. Still, from a Where Has the Time Gone? standpoint, that this once-youthful heartthrob was gracing a magazine cover catering to the older set didn’t faze me. Basic math flat-out says he's old now.

Nor did my own 55-year-oldness get to me...after all, I've had 11 months to shuffle comfortably into that figure. 

What struck me, in the end, was a realization that arrived as I rose from my slumber a few days ago. Remember those teeny- and tweeny-boppers who were like so many Lilliputians to my Gulliver? Most of them are now old enough to be getting AARP the Magazine. 

Now that blows me away.

Here’s something else that’s amazing: this rapidly turned-around review of the concert in the Chicago Tribune, which appeared the next morning.

It appeared in a section labeled, aptly enough, Overnight Chicago. The lede is one for the ages:

“Julianne Phillips will hate this, but imagine for a moment that Bruce Springsteen and David Lee Roth somehow had a baby.”

The piece flows breezily from there, concluding with a one-paragraph quip about the opening act, Cinderella. Well done, Daniel Brogan.

Poll Results

Last week’s column, `No benefit to stepping on an ant,’ contained two polls. I suspect the 20-odd readers who’ve responded would be especially interested in the results—and perhaps so would some who skipped the questions.

On the question of “What’s your policy on ants?”: Seven said they adopt my old policy—they “crush ’em”—while 15 claimed they adhere to my new policy and “leave ’em be.”

On the question of being “done” with cicadas, four said they were done, six said they were not and nine indicated they are not near the critters in the first place.

By the way, if you want to check out that column and jump into the fray, those polls are still open.²

1. My appreciation for him only soared after I read the AARP story. Seems like one really cool, kind guy. I’m rooting for his vocal cords to regain enough strength so that he can go back on tour.

2. Thanks also to the multiple readers who noted the common ground shared by my ant/cicada piece and the column posted that day, headlined Kind Soul, by Chicago Sun-Times columnist Neil Steinberg. Sometimes that’s how the stars align!