Sprinklers and Boy Bands

I was a young tot when I was introduced to something that would virtually shape my whole third grade and beyond:



Indeed. A.J, the bad boy with the massive amounts of tattoos and facial hair; Nick, the blond baby-face with a bowl-haircut; Brian, the crooner with a guitar and a voice that sounded like he sometimes had a frog in his throat; Howie, the oddity of the bunch, along with Kevin, the one who was like, thirty, when he joined a boy band. Regardless, I rocked out hardcore to that album. I mean, really. "Everybody?" "Quit Playing Games with my Heart?" Best. Jams. Ever. I remember my dad constantly playing track number ten-"Get Down (You're the One for Me)"-every morning just so I would do the A.J rap and dance that I made up to it. It was our daily morning ritual and our daily bonding moment, and to be honest...I miss that.

I've been thinking about my dad a lot lately. I've been thinking about how our bonding rituals revolve around our love for Will & Grace, music, life conversations, and yes, Meredith traditions. Every single Cornhuskin' season, the man dons a thick jacket and thermal pants and baseball hat and sits through the skits, the dances....everything. And it's been making me a little bit sad that this is the last Corn he and my mom are coming to, the last Corn that we'll spend allllll Saturday morning reliving and comparing the Odds and Evens (he's a permanent Oddy. True fact), and the last Corn he'll get to see me let loose and get a little crazy. I'm beginning to realize that I think this Cornhuskin' is going to be bittersweet for me...and him.

This morning I decided to, er, "take a mental health day" from CORE, so I headed over to the Bean with my Shakespeare book to memorize my monologue for class. It was so beautiful outside and when I was on my way back, my windows were down, music was blaring, and I was telling myself, "This is going to be a GREAT day." As soon as I thought this, while coming up on the Meredith front drive, the funniest thing happened: the sprinklers turned on. And my windows were down. You see the connection. My face was sprayed silly, but I was still determined to have a great day. I leaned into the back of my super-messy, super-crammed car for my paper towels and my fingers brushed against something:

A semi-cracked, blue-and-cream album that had been scratched from so many listens. The first Backstreet Boy album coupled with tons of memories in the car with my dad. And I couldn't help but smile.

That's when I realized today was going to be a good day.