Every once in a while I get to feeling very "Shondelli." It could be a note that I hear, a pic that I see, the smell of a chill in the air, and suddenly, I hear Tommy James and the Shondells playing in my head. I'm brought back to my warm blanket...a comfortable, cozy, bordering on the edge of excitement, but still innocent, time.
A Youtube commercial on FB, even if it wasn't the actual one, of a familiar belly-button-pushing, hair-growing doll named Velvet, probably was the nostalgic nudge.
I loved that creepy doll. She was my best friend, until the time I yanked her ponytail a little too hard. She hated me after that. No matter how many times I turned the plastic growth/knob sticking out of Velvet's back, her hair would not go back down inside her. After I cut the tail off, I quickly lost interest in her. Really can't do much with short hair. Seeing Velvet last night, after all these years, made me play with my own hair. With no button to push to make it grow again, I knew not to take a scissor to mine. Instead, I took a bottle and brush, and did the best I could with what I had to work with.
Afterwards, I went into the backyard. I don't think Velvet was the only thing that made me feel Shondelli today. Maybe it was the cold grey air outside, watching that brown leaf dance, that reminded me of the old oak tree in Brooklyn. I saw the roots bulging through the concrete, spinning a wheelie over that natural bicycle ramp. I felt the acorn flesh stuck under my fingernails from peeling them. I smelled the wet leaves stuck to my Keds. Clear as day. Another time in another place.