Love, Janis

Recently Tony took me to the San Francisco premiere of Love, Janis, the musical that tells the story of Janis Joplin through her letters and her songs. While I was born in 1966, I had no sense of Janis' life or music going into the theater, nor any expectations for the show. A little over an hour later, the first act ended and I was barely able to get up from my seat, so powerfully was I affected by the performance in general and "Ball and Chain" in particular.

My parents were hippies in the 70s, and in a not too unusual reaction, I became a bit of an Alex Keaton child: I didn't like going to parties, I didn't like their rock music. I remember standing at Mom's side on so many nights, asking repeatedly when we were going home.

Happily, I look back at it all with nostalgia now. :-)

Love, Janis tells Janis' story by alternating between a young Janis, who reads aloud the letters that she sent home to her family in Texas during the late 60s and early 70s, and musical performances by a slightly older--and more worn--Janis. Occasionally the two Janis characters sat side-by-side on stage and conversed. Katrina Chester filled the older Janis role on opening night and wowed the audience with her emotion and energy. (For a review, check out Variety.)

I developed a new respect for how sensitive and intelligent Janis was, partly due to the influence of her father, an avid reader who shared many books with her. And I was surprised at how strongly her music affected me. But as has happened before, I was reminded that the music of that era--even when I pretended not to listen--got deep inside of me, and in hearing it 30 years later, it evokes powerful memories of childhood.

As I said, the first act ended with an emotionally intense performance of "Ball and Chain." Hearing the song, I found some closure: I had the opportunity to appreciate what as a child had been a reminder of my parents' being different.

Different. As I am.

A couple of years ago I went to a Sting and Annie Lennox concert in Portland with my friend Alex. I found myself looking around the arena, seeing many people my age, most of them heterosexually partnered. I remembered being in love with a young woman named Jane in college, and it occurred to me that I might have gone down that path: marrying Jane, raising a family. And, quite likely, never feeling fully satisfied or happy.

I realized that I learned from my parents that it was okay to be different, and if not for that, I might not have had the courage to go my own way.

I shared this with my mother, and she remarked that she had always been worried that she might have ruined my life by being a hippie. I told her that she might just have saved it by being one.

EXPERIENCING A BIT OF THE 70s THAT NIGHT, I found myself wondering how my parents transitioned from straight-laced high school kids to the counter culture hippies that I remembered. They navigated that transition in a town of 800 in the middle of Kansas. When did they begin to step outside the norm? When, for example, did my Dad grow his hair out? What was it like for them? How did friends and family react? These were questions I had never considered before, but it gave me an opening to call Dad and ask (and for the record, he began to grow his hair out in 1973 :-).

What an amazing time that Janis--and my parents--lived through. So much change. So many milestone events, including the Stonewall riots, that collectively created room for people to live in ways that hadn't been permitted before. A long overdue "thank you" is in order...

Dear Mom and Dad,

I went along kicking and screaming at times, but through the lives you led I learned that it was okay to take another path, and that has made all the difference in my life. I learned from you how to feel comfortable around all types of people. I never heard you make a racist joke or comment. You always allowed me to be me.

For all of that, and for sticking with me through everything that has happened since, thank you.

Love, Michael