By Carol Preisler
The boys may be getting together this summer. I hope so. They are in their late 40s now but I recall them as teenagers. I relished being a witness to their youthful antics. Music blared from our garage in summer and we were aware the police might show up at any time.
A friend of one of the boys had a police scanner and he’d call the house to warn of their arrival. The police were tolerant and advised the boys to keep it down. I think they tried, but drums are loud at any level.
Neighbors often didn’t appreciate outdoor music on weekends, or anytime, and we understood. My heart knew how innocent it was and I was just grateful knowing where they were. During the winter they’d lug their equipment through the garage and down my cellar stairs. An old Army tent served as a tarp to collect the snow they brought in with them.
My younger son and I would retreat to the upstairs bedrooms, where we covered the heat vents with blankets. It was our vain attempt at softening the noise as we’d feel the floor vibrate and laugh.
I am pleased my home was that safe haven. Their music was important. Having had four sisters, I totally enjoyed being the mother of boys. They are simply different.
Sometimes the friends would share a meal or stay for breakfast. Other days they’d swim in our pool or go out with us on a friend’s boat. I drove a few to high school graduation and treasure the pictures we took. They most likely had their share of questionable parties back then.
Carol Preisler.
The only one I witnessed was a Super Bowl party I agreed to. My son’s plan was to charge a few dollars each for an afternoon of pizza and pop. I remember having to find a place to hide out in our little house. Their laughter was priceless.
My memento of that day was a tower of pop cans left behind. It rested on a card table in front of my picture window. A locker room scent also remained.
Most of the friends did not have fathers at home, either through divorce or death. Their mothers deserve amazing credit for helping them grow into an impressive group of interesting men. They’ve scattered across the states but seem to remain in touch. Perhaps now they realize how special their time in our little city was.
Some of them have never married while some have married more than once. Finding the right path can have its challenges. In any event I hope they retain a bit of the Peter Pan.
It could be an exciting summer if it goes as planned. I’ve heard they might hold a public musical revival of sorts. Their band had a short run of madness that I unfortunately never did get to see. The clubs were not exactly territory for an old mom in her 30s.
My son would tell me the details of how they had the greatest time playing not the greatest of music. The songs didn’t quite matter though. It was the collective creativity that mattered. The crazy stunts and camaraderie were paramount. A train wreck of sorts.
Memories of noisy instruments and silent intervals are still vivid and sweet. I have a sense of peace knowing I may have contributed to their development in some way. It was a particularly special time witnessing their individual journeys through youth.
Carol Preisler, of North Tonawanda, is hoping for a summer reunion with her son and his musical friends.