Thunderstruck

AC/DC, grief, and a reminder to live life loudly.

Still feeling the thunder in my beating heart from AC/DC’s concert earlier this month.

The idea to go started with something sad. Last spring, our sweet guinea pig Enoki died. The next morning, I found myself crying on the way to work and it reminded me of driving to work just after my brother Patrick passed away. Losing a pet is obviously not the same as losing a sibling, but a loss is a reminder of others. Regrets are like that too.

Then “Back in Black” came blasting through the radio (I’m still a radiohead). It was an ad for AC/DC at Camp Randall. And it reminded me of when Patrick and I were teens, both AC/DC fans, along with our other brothers.

My husband is not an AC/DC fan like my family. He grew up on Beatles and mellow rock, but thrifted a t-shirt to wear in good fun, which he had too.

I bought tickets later that day. I wanted to go for me, but also for Patrick. Our August birthdays would be soon after the concert. I’m turning 52, the last birthday he got to have.

For a lot of people, a concert is no big deal. But I hadn’t been to a stadium show since the ’90s. There are always reasons not to do something. And as the weekend approached, more reasons came: smoky air drifting down from Canada, July humidity, period cramps and fatigue. The hassle of parking and the thought of 40,000 people packed into bleachers sounded more of a bother than it could be worth.

Dusk came as anticipation built. Under an eerie, smokey sky, the opening videos showed a race car revving, a reminder of Patrick, who was a racecar driver and motorsports fan. I knew I needed to come. I was grateful to be there. I felt ALIVE.

Soon Brian Johnson and Angus Young entered the stage, flooding the stadium with electricity. It felt as high-voltage as when I was a teenager, walking with my walkman under the hum of power lines, flipping my High Voltage tape from side A to side B and back again.

Just walked along the powerline path while visiting my mom. It’s funny how I miss them.

My favorite song on the album was “She’s Got Balls.” It sounded like the women I came from. But why was that treated like something unusual? It always seemed strange to me, considering the women I grew up watching were far more gutsy than the men.

When “Thunderstruck” started, I felt Patrick right there. It was his absolute favorite. He must’ve heard it a million times at the track. It’s a baseball staple too, his other life passion. Listening to it or watching a video screen was nowhere close to the feeling of being there for the stadium performance. It brought the thunder straight to my heart.

Old then, still going strong now

Back then, AC/DC band members seemed old. Now, Angus Young is 71, the last of the original lineup, still in his trademark royal blue schoolboy uniform, spinning, duckwalking across the stage like he’d copied from Chuck Berry. Brian Johnson’s voice, still raw and raspy, sounded pretty similar to his Back in Black eighties debut. Sounding a little old from the start worked in his favor now that he’s pushing 80.

Song after song, the crowd lit up, along with a sea of red lights from wearing devil horns glowing. Voices rose as everyone shouted their way through each anthem, on a highway to hell.

Yes to American thighs

And when “You Shook Me All Night Long” came on, every woman seemed proud and grateful for every inch of their American thighs. Just last week, I heard a young woman talking about how the fear of ‘thigh spread’ when sitting down gave her anxiety as a teen. There’s a sickness in society when women can’t even sit comfortably. And I think the judgment over the jiggle kept me from playing sports. I'm still mad about that.

But in that stadium, singing along, every woman seemed to feel like the best damn woman alive. And why shouldn’t they?

Living life loudly

Patrick didn’t live life through a screen. He went to races and baseball events big and small, traveling all over. He played, coached, mentored, and drew people in with an ease, forming friendships and building community.

Life loves to put us in boxes, controlled and separate, doling out just enough to keep us moving along, maybe. After a while, you might just accept the box, convinced you’re stuck or fearing anything different. Sometimes, people will want you to stay put, even pressure you to. Don’t do anything different, and definitely don’t ask why.

We need people in our lives who inspire us to get up and go, and to challenge what others tell us to do. Lots of what we’re told to do is not about what we’re called to do. Patrick had an independent spirit that was contagious in that way.

Living life loudly feels like one of the best ways to remember a loved one gone too soon. An AC/DC dose of irreverence, humor, and ballsiness can give that nudge to take the risks worth taking. What the hell am I waiting for anymore?