The Glory of Lurv

Damn you Dirty Dancing! You have cast your spell on me and I can't get you out of my head. Some films you miss out on and as others grow attached and obsess and trade lines you sit idly by and figure you have lost your chance. You will never feel the same way about it that they do. Those jokes are so deeply embedded in those who were there from the beginning that they are part of their DNA. You have arrived late to the party and can either scramble to play catch up or abandon ship. I figured I was in the latter camp when it came to Dirty Dancing but when I finally got around to watching it, the masterpiece of 80s filmmaking sank its claws deep inside of me and has yet to let go. I get it! I see why this film is a classic of escapist cinema. I may have missed out on 21 years of good times and giggles watching these two star crossed lovers circle each other like carnivorous birds but it didn't ruin the experience for me. I'm just surprised how quickly this film took over my psyche.

Do you know how I know the sickness has invaded my every pore? It's because when I watch the video for "She's Like the Wind" I don't gawk and roar with laughter at Swayze the singer's over emoting. No. Instead I swoon as Baby and Johnny practice dance moves, jump on a log and swim in a lake. What kind of voodoo has kicked me in the head? Take a gander for yourself. If you have a soul, you too will find yourself flooded with conflicting emotions as you watch this. It's like viewing home movies starring someone else. The feelings this stirs up make me feel like I was there, like I was Johnny or perhaps Baby and lived through this magical summer at Kellerman's. I am converted and it feels so good!



I feel about Dirty Dancing the way I felt about The Karate Kid. I left the theater after that one ready to do some serious kicking and since having my life altered by Swayze and Co. I want to lift my dance partner over my head and smash a car window to get to the keys I locked inside. I want to help carry a watermelon into a party for sweaty minimum wage slaves. I want to live dammit!

And of course, thinking about The Karate Kid makes me think of Peter Cetera and how he is one of the guiltiest of pleasures. "You're the Inspiration" and "The Glory of Love" are inescapable smash hits that will echo through my skull for all eternity but what is the deal with the way Cetera sings? It's really odd. Check out this story about a throwdown he was in back in 1969 at Dodgers Stadium: "Four marines didn't like a long-haired rock 'n' roller in a baseball park," Cetera recounts, "and of course I was a Cub fan, and I was in Dodger Stadium, and that didn't do so well. I got in a fight and got a broken jaw in three places, and I was in intensive care for a couple of days. The only funny thing I can think about the whole incident," he says, "is that, with my jaw wired together, I actually went on the road, and I was actually singing through my clenched jaw, which, to this day, is still the way I sing." He's so much cooler than I thought. What a badass. Set the wayback machine for 1986: