1977

I never thought that 1977 held any special importance in my life, but 35 years later, it seems to be popping up over and over again.

Have you ever had a favorite book, or movie, or song, that you just loved as a kid? You know, the kind that moved you in ways that only a young person could be moved? Upon adult reflection, maybe you were nostalgic or, more likely, embarrassed. I just ran across such a song, but I'll be darned, I wasn't embarrassed. It still sounds great to me.

I became a teenager in 1977. I didn't discover booze, or drugs, or girls, not really, nor did I discover relevant music, although I did have a weird thing for 1950s rock and roll at the time. The things I discovered were wargames and sword and sorcery fantasy. I was swimming heavily at the time, and doing pretty well despite being at the bottom of my age group. Even then, it was daydreams of imaginary worlds and their heroes that got me through the demanding workouts. S&S and wargames consumed me for years, and even while other obsessions came and went, I kept going back to them. Gladly. Even thinking back on it, my obsession with those two nerdy magisteria makes me oddly happy. I did a lot of stupid and regrettable things in my youth- some of which still haunt me- but they weren't tied to those areas of interest.

So when I hear what most music afficianodos would consider a sappy, crappy, forgettable piece of what would later be known as Prog Rock, instead of cringing (for crying out loud, Never Mind the Bollocks came out that year!), I am transported to a more passionate time, a time of Star Wars, Wizards, of Howard novels reissued with iconic Kelley and Frazetta covers, of Elric and Corum and Hawkmoon, of Burroughs' worlds of heroism and honor, and of course Tolkien and Dungeons and Dragons.

I wasn't fully immersed in 1977, but I definitely took the bait and smiled when I felt the hook. It was, quite literally, like a religious awakening.

When I hear Kansas' Dust in the Wind today, I feel the same way I did 35 years ago. I first heard it while I was reading a collection of Howard's short stories, predicated on a Jungian "racial memory," in which the characters all felt their imminent mortality, but also felt that they were part of a greater ongoing narrative. Even though they were obliged to act with heroic grandeur, they also sensed that they were, indeed, dust in the wind.

I hadn't thought about that song in years. Later this year, I am getting a couple of copies of the ultimate Designer's Edition of the seminal wargame OGRE, which first came out as a $2.95 Microgame in 1977. I spent a small fortune to get each copy, including a premium to get my initials on a few of the playing pieces (EVERYONE'S playing pieces!). I will be happy to play some OGRE with friends who were mere babes when I got my first copy, and I won't be too embarrassed if we play the game to ELP, Boomtown Rats, or even Kansas.