Notes from a messy desk…
It was a dark and stormy night… just kidding. It was a breezy March day with a chill in the air, so I was tackling indoor chores and had turned the radio on for some distraction.
Hip hop and rap channels? Nope. Not in the mood for country twang either. The pop/rock selections had all been played to death (I like you, Burton and Randy, but Guess Who needs a rest). So I educated my ears with half an hour of classy classical, then tuned into a talk show exploring the subject of celebrity fan mail.
Famous folk get feedback via Instagram, Facebook and X-formerly-Twitter, but they receive plenty of pen-and-paper letters too. Some fans even send handcrafted gifts: beaded jewelry, macrame pillow covers, miniature mukluks for the stars’ pets. Possibly home baked brownies and Nanaimo bars. Okay, I added those last two because, well, snack attack. But still.
Apparently I’m poor fan material from way back, because never did I stitch, knot, or string together creations for the people my young self idolized. Twiggy must have felt the lack of appreciation, and for her tear-stained eyelashes I am sorry. The Beatles probably sought out the Maharishi Yogi due to my neglect. I offer a thousand apologies in lotus pose. And Michael Landon a.k.a. Little Joe (that hair! those eyes! his mischievous grin!) – I was remiss, and can’t go back and fix it. Sigh.
Being a rabid fan just isn’t in my DNA, I enjoy the music of Jake Vaadeland and the Sturgeon River Boys, but all they’ve received from me is attendance at the Rawlinson Centre and a C.D. purchase during intermission. Plus, I guess, this mention of them.
I’d better explain that Jake’s a Saskatchewan singer/songwriter who, at the tender age of 21, practically personifies a forty-something country star from the era of the Hanks – Snow and Williams – and their cronies. He and his small band are popular with lots of people alive in 2025. Which is ironic in my case, because I routinely rolled my eyes and left the room when Mom hauled out her Johnny Cash 78s and K-Tel Cryin’-in-yer-beer ballads.
What does it take to be a fan nowadays? Is it all pay-per-view and Netflix? Do you listen to podcasts and subscribe to YouTube? Spend hours on the internet clicking “like” and commenting on posts? And what about the merch? Nobody says merchandise any more. Order your t-shirts, licence plates, and fingernail decals online, no doubt.
If good fans enjoy awaiting home deliveries while glued to www.insertcelebrityhere, then I fail miserably. Too much screen time makes bespectacled eyes go funny, and repeated keyboard tapping stiffens arthritic fingers. As for merch, I’m trying to lessen the clutter in my life, not add to it. At last count I owned 11 ball caps and wa-a-y too many mugs.
Thanks a lot, radio talk show. Listening to you has brought me face to face with my feeble fandom abilities. All fan-tasies have been dashed. Time now to pry these knees out of lotus pose, put Jake’s CD on the boombox and drown my sorrows in several ounces of coffee with a shot of Caramel Cheesecake flavouring, in this “Best Sister Ever” collectors’ mug. Kidding again… I own no such item. The mug actually says “Superfan”. Or “It was a dark and stormy night”. One of those.
