I am well aware that 95% of the people reading this post have no idea who Shaun Cassidy is, and to that, I just have to say, I’m so sorry for you.
To those of you who DaDoKnowKnow who he is, then you will probably better appreciate this story.
So, over the summer, I was scrolling through TikTok and I came across this video. Everyone who commented went between thinking it was hilarious and thinking it was terrible of her dad to do this.
But friends, rewind that clock back to 1979/1980 and I WAS that girl.
We were out in Ohio with my grandparents and we were out to dinner and as a typical late 70’s 7/8 year old girl, I had THE BIGGEST crush on Shaun Cassidy.
Wavy golden locks. Big, beautiful eyes. Shaun Cassidy was the first boy to set my heart aflutter.
So, there we were in the restaurant (which I have a vague memory as being The Lobster Shanty, but is there a Lobster Shanty near Ashtabula, Ohio? It is near Lake Erie, so maybe? Are there lobsters in lakes? Are they just ocean creatures? I have no idea!) (also…I’m allergic to seafood…would my parents take me to the Lobster Shanty? Yeah, probably. Sorry Mom and Dad, but you know it’s true.) and the waiter came to the table and I was dumbfounded. Completely speechless.
Our waiter was Shaun Cassidy.
I was sure of it.
No thoughts crossed my mind like, “What would a mega superstar be doing serving at a restaurant in Ashtabula, Ohio?” (Just like, at the time, I didn’t question the existence of a Lobster Shanty in Ohio, but I digress…again)
Instead, my mind thought “Shauncassidyshauncassidyshauncassidy” over and over and over.
When he left, I leaned into my Dad and whispered “Daddy, I am pretty sure that our waiter is Shaun Cassidy.” And my Dad said “Oh yeah? Like, THE Shaun Cassidy?”
“Yes!” I said. “I can’t believe it!”
My Dad said “Me neither!” and patted me on the head.
I assumed that was the end of the conversation and that my Dad and I were in on some massive secret, and wasn’t that awesome, and weren’t we a sleuthy team?
And then the waiter came back.
And my Dad said “Excuse me, my daughter is positive that you are Shaun Cassidy. Are you Shaun Cassidy?”
Obviously he said no, but I have no idea as to the actual words he used, because, at that point I slid under the table, the original TikTok girl, embarrassed by her Dad. I’m pretty sure I stayed there for most of the meal, (because, again…seafood restaurant, so why not), because I was mortified.
Great story, right?
Well, that, my friends, is not the story I’m here to tell.
The story I’m sharing is not one of embarrassment. It’s one of triumph.
My parents moved from my childhood home when I was a sophomore in college. I was away at school when they moved, and so they packed up my belongings and the movers put them in a truck.
It took longer than expected to pack up our little home, and at the end of the day, the movers decided that it was better to move in the next morning than to try to get it done that night. So, my parents agreed for the movers to bring the locked trucks to their depot for the night.
Except, it rained that night, my friends. And the truck which held everything I owned that was not currently with me at college? Well, that truck’s roof had a leak in it. And it flooded. And I lost everything I owned. The clothes I hadn’t brought with me. Toys I had held onto. My books. My albums.
When they called, I was devastated. I can’t even talk about the books. My cassette tapes that I had spent hours taping off the radio.
But let’s discuss the albums. Sure, it was now the 90’s and cd’s were the thing, but I had some albums from my childhood that I had held onto because I just LOVED them.
The Halloween album that I’ve never been able to find again. My Grease double record set. Along those lines, (and RIP Olivia Newton John), my Olivia Newton John’s Greatest Hits album. Michael Jackson’s Thriller. Some Sesame Street albums. My first 45, Hall and Oates’ Maneater. The list goes on and on.
Among those lost was my favorite album from my younger childhood years, and what I believe to be my first album, Shaun Cassidy.
I had drawn lips and hearts all over that album. I loved it. I knew every word to every song. And, even though, by the age of 19, I had gotten over my crush on Shaun Cassidy, it just gave me memories of the mid-70’s, reminded me of the home we lived in from the age of 3-8, of which I didn’t have many memories, reminded me of singing and dancing with my earliest childhood friend, Judy, and just made me feel good.
For 30+ years, I have always mourned the loss of my books and albums (and some of my 80’s fashion that I had refused to part with). As an adult, when I go to garage sales, I look to see if I can replace any of what was lost so many years ago.
Can I buy them all new? Sure. But I like getting the beat up copies that look more like mine. I buy any Sweet Valley High or original Nancy Drew hardcover that I find. I pick through the albums at the Goodwill and drag whoever is with me in the car to every yard sale just to see if they might have anything I’ve been missing all these years.
With books, I’ve done well at replacing my collection. Albums? Not as much.
Over the summer, I was in an antique store, trying to sell some items, and after wandering for awhile, I found an album section and started thumbing through. And suddenly, I gasped. There it was. There he was.
Shaun. Cassidy.
And, so I had to buy it. (and no, the replacement did not have the full sized, autographed poster inside)
Listen, I don’t have a lot of vices. I don’t smoke, I really don’t even drink, I’ve never done drugs. But words and music? Those are my things. My Achilles heel. My books. My music. Aside from my friends and family, they are everything to me.
I brought that album home and played that record and sang and danced around the room for quite some time. Everyone here thought I was crazy, but for just those moments, I was transported to a simpler time where my greatest responsibility was remembering to take out the dog, and my biggest worry was the dirt spot on my rainbow pinstriped white jeans.
I’ve seen the videos of people playing popular music of their youth to patients suffering from Alzheimer’s disease, and I’ve watched them absolutely come alive. People who have been catatonic suddenly smiling and tapping their feet, and sometimes, even singing along.
I get it.
Music. Your music. My music.
It becomes part of us. It soothes our aches. It sparks our memories. It creates our joy.
Thanks, Shaun. For a little while, I was a kid again, this summer, and it was wonderful.
Signed,
Your Biggest Fan
