The Rose Way Girls and the North Shore Concert

We can be apart for years, but when we get together with our high school friends, it’s as though we’re frozen in time. And, once that deep-rooted, familiar music of our teens begins to play, the tales of our past flow like a waterfall.

When I was in high school in the 1970s, like most teenagers, music was a big part of my life. Anytime I hear a song from The Grateful Dead, Loggins & Messina, Jesse Colin Young, or The Allman Brothers, to name a few, I still think of my friends from Rose Way in Holbrook, Massachusetts. After all these years, I know that music is is a bond that we will always share.

When I heard that Jonathan Edwards, a favorite folk singer from our high school days, was performing near my home, I reached out to my friends. We were all fans during high school and college. So, on a Friday night in the late spring, four of the Rose Way girls went on a road trip to see Jonathan Edwards.

To get ready, I made sure that I had plenty of his songs on my playlist to listen to while driving to the concert. You know the favorites, “Sunshine, Go Away, ” and “Shanty”, but there were many others. I wanted this night to be special. I envisioned us singing on the way to the concert, just like when were were teens. During the concert, we’d also sing along with our favorites, just as we had in high school.

I was looking forward to getting together to reminisce and make new memories. Planning ahead was critical, as they were coming from the south shore to the north shore. As anyone from the south shore knows, the ride north on the southeast expressway is no picnic. It doesn’t matter what time of day you choose to travel, “rush hour” is from 6-10 AM, and then again from 2-7 PM. If there’s construction, add time. A Friday night when spring leans toward summer creates a whole new challenge. And, if you grew up on the north shore, as my husband did, you complain, “I hate the south shore traffic.” The south shore residents would say the opposite. I’ll bet that more people from the south shore relocate out of state than to towns and cities north of Boston. North shore residents spend vacations in the White Mountains, lakes of New Hampshire, and coastal Maine; south shore residents go to the cape, the islands, and other south shore beaches. North shore and south shore – so close, and yet crossing the Tobin Bridge is as out of the question as taking a three day weekend to Australia.

Because of the anticipated traffic, my friends planned it well, arriving at about 6 PM; it had taken them over 2 hours to travel 45 miles. But, this gave us the time necessary to eat a quick dinner before driving to the concert. We were on our way.

As we drove to the concert, I made sure I had the playlist ready. I told my friends, “This is a mix of our favorites from high school, but there are plenty of songs from Jonathan Edwards, too.” As we drove, we listened to the Eagles and Jackson Browne, and a few others. “Where are the Jonathan Edwards songs?” they asked. Soon, I assured them. As we got closer to the concert, we still hadn’t heard anything from Jonathan Edwards. “I think they’re at the end of my playlist, but we’ll hear a few before we get there.” By the time we reached the concert, we had heard some great songs, but nothing from Jonathan Edwards. “We’ll hear plenty when we see him live, and then we can listen to him all the way home.”

Before the show we made our way to the bar on the third floor. The room had a spectacular view of the ocean. We ordered our drinks and sipped them as we took in the view. The night felt special; a beautiful spring night and a view of the ocean to enjoy with old friends. As I looked around the room, I took in another view – the people in the room. Most were dressed casually, many had the look of the 1970s, longer hair, jeans and t-shirts. But the long hair was now grey and the t-shirts were more close-fitting than they might have been in the past. They seemed older to me. If they were here to see Jonathan Edwards, how much older could they be? We must be the youngest people here, I concluded. The others looked worn, mature, elderly. As I drank this in, I wondered, how I appeared to others tonight. Perhaps I too, looked old.

As we began to relax, we hear the sound letting us know the bar was closing. Judy looked at her half-full glass and said, “I’m not leaving until I finish this.” We urged her to drink fast, which she did, and we were on our way.

It was a small theater, which was perfect, because we’d get a great view of Jonathan Edwards. As we sat down, I took out some mints and passed one to each of my friends. As I did this, the woman in front of us asked me if she could have one. Within a second, the man beside her also took one. I looked at Denise who was sitting beside me with a questioning look. I wanted to laugh, but didn’t think this was funny, but odd. How did she hear me? Would I ask a stranger for a mint? They had mumbled something about being hungry and not being able to eat. “Who knows,” said Judy. “Maybe they smoked a joint and had a dry mouth.” Possibly, because I highly doubt that a mint would satisfy their hunger. This was strange, but I didn’t know how to say no, and extended the box toward them. The woman gingerly touched one, took it, selected another and took it. She was careful not to put her fingers all over my mints. Oh well, let the show begin.

When Jonathan Edwards came on, we applauded and shouted. He was as we remembered, tall and lean, with a casual manner about him. Always thinking he was handsome, I remembered the crush I had on him years ago. Charlene said that she too, had felt the same way.

He started by playing songs that were unfamiliar to us. We waited for the songs we knew and loved. He had been making music for years (50 years to be exact) and had a great deal of new music to share. Of course, he had continued to make music. Why wouldn’t he make new music? He was a talented musician. We had not continued to listen to him and follow his musical career; we only had memories of his earlier music. We had been living our lives, working, raising our families and not following his music. Years had gone by, but tonight we were living in the past, and that’s what we wanted. This was about us revisiting our past. Where was the old music? We expected him to play our songs, the music we came to hear. I looked over at Judy to see if she was awake. I saw her stifle a yawn. Charlene and Denise were focused; I didn’t know what they were thinking. The exhilaration I had felt earlier was starting to diminish. I was beginning to feel disappointed.

Finally, he began to play a few familiar songs. We became more lively, clapping along, and singing the words we remembered. We had come alive, and so had he (in our minds). At one point he slowed down at the end, and members of the audience shouted out a few requests. I too, shouted out a song, and the man who had taken one of my mints turned around and said something. “What did he say?” I asked Denise. She replied, “He said, good choice.” So the mint taker liked my song request. He’s probably trying to make friends with me for another mint, I thought.

When the concert ended we made our way down the stairs. As we got to the bottom, we saw Jonathan Edwards talking to some concert goers. Judy pointed to him, and I thought about going over to him. Other people were talking to him, why not us? But we continued to walk toward the door. What would I say if I’d approached him? “Hi Jonathan, we’re high school friends who loved you in the 70s. We had crushes on you.” Judy noted, “He looks older when you see him this close.” Yes, he did, but still nice-looking and tall, and lean, I thought, defending him. He is seventy-two years old, after all. As we walked out, I said to nobody in particular, “Did I ever tell you that I got close to him once at a concert and touched his shirt?” As we walked out the door and began our walk to the car, I turned around and watched him, fully engaged while talking to concert goers, still tall and lean and handsome. I had missed my chance.

Walking back to the car, we shared our opinions. What other songs did he miss? When did we last see him in concert? Did we like the newer songs? Or, why didn’t he play this song or that song? Back at the car, I couldn’t wait to hear his songs from my playlist. The music started and we heard some more great music, but still no Jonathan Edwards. “Are you sure you have his songs on the your play list?” Judy asked. “Yes, I downloaded a bunch of them.” Yet, during the ride home, we didn’t hear his voice. The show was over, but it was important to me to continue the concert on the way home. My friends were probably starting to doubt me, and my plan for a complete musical night of Jonathan Edwards was falling apart.

The next morning as I made my way downstairs I heard Jonathan Edwards’ folksy voice coming from the kitchen. Strange, I thought, as my songs were on my phone, which was not in the kitchen. As I entered the kitchen, I saw Judy and Denise, and we laughed. Denise, too, had his music on her device. She didn’t share her music in the car the previous night when I was having trouble with my playlist. She knew I had a special night planned and didn’t want to take that away from me. So, along with Charlene and Judy, she enjoyed the music on the way home from the concert the previous night, even though none of the songs played were those of Jonathan Edwards. I had been the most disappointed one of all.

That morning, as we listened to Jonathan Edwards and sang along, we relived the previous night. But now, we chose what we wanted to hear, the songs that we knew and loved. And, perhaps because we had just attended the concert, they had a newer, richer sound that brought our memories to the forefront of our minds. And, who knows, maybe we’ll add some new Jonathan Edwards’ songs to our playlists. He is Jonathan Edwards, after all, the singer we’ve loved since high school.

While revisiting the past, we created new memories. Each of us will add her recollection of this night to her personal playlist. The next time we meet, we’ll share our varied versions of the story, emphasizing the highlights, different for each of us. What one remembers, the other will have long forgotten. We will help each other bring it to the present, with laughter, I’m certain. Thank you my Rose Way friends for the past and the present, and for making your way over the Tobin Bridge.