No, I wasn't pulling a Ferris Bueller by any means, there were no parades to sing "Danke Schoen" at and no museums to visit or house windows to send cars through or reason to play sick. I simply took the day off from school, the only time I ever did that.
But I start by saying that I was at school to start the day and did make my first two classes that morning. So right after French III class with Ms. Ugolini and during third-period history class with Mr. Potter, I got called down to the office at Toms River High School East. My mother was waiting for me and she was taking me to make my regular orthodontist appointment in Brick Township to the Habitat Plaza with Mr. Herbtsman, who after four years of having braces at this point was probably sick and tired of seeing me.
We'd see each other five more years ... that's how screwed up my teeth were.
Well, after the appointment, mom and I both agreed that I wasn't going back to school on this Friday. But this would be the only time I could break this rule. She was doing bookwork for a guy who owned property on the Jersey Shore boardwalk named Irving Kirsch (it's hard not to forget that name). Her office just happened to be on the second floor of Jenkinson's Pavilion in Point Pleasant Beach. So we drive there in the family's old 1969 Chevy Impala and after we got there, I had switched to wearing shorts, a T-shirt and flip-flops. She did her thing in the office and I went to lay on a practically vacant beach, even for a 73-degree day. I also learned about the temperature of water that late morning as well as I stuck my legs in the water and felt the chill of the 50-something degree water take a hold of body parts one at a time, starting from my toes and working up until it got to my crotch.
That was it. A cruel lesson to learn at 16.
But there was a jukebox at one of the pizza places open on the boardwalk and it had some of the top music of the day I was listening to on my radio stations in the area. And it brings me to this particular countdown which is being broadcast by the Premier Radio Network on various radio stations throughout the world -- April 30, 1983.
There was Naked Eyes' "Always Something There To Reind Me," which moved up from No. 38 to No. 33. There was also Journey's new hit at the time, "Faithfully," which debuted at No. 31. There was Culture Club's new one, "Time (Clock Of The Heart)," which came in as the highest Top 40 debut that week at No. 30.
Journey, Culture Club, Lionel Richie, Duran Duran, Styx and Michael Jackson all had two hits in the Top 40 this particular week, by the way.
And the list of the songs on that jukebox was like a Who's Who of what would be the best summer of all-time in pop music history ... or at least the late spring/early summer portion of it.
There was Rick Springfield's first hit from his album "Living In Oz" called "Affair Of The Heart," which rocketed up 10 places from No. 39 to No. 29. There was the adult contemporary staple "Mornin'" by (Al) Jarreau, which leaped nine places from No. 37 to No. 28. I couldn't get over that Irene Cara's new movie song, "Flashdance ... What A Feeling," was on this same jukebox so quickly. It leaped from No. 33 to No. 23.
And on and on and on it went -- "Straight From The Heart" by Bryan Adams (No. 34-21), Def Leppard's "Photograph" (No. 26-18), Duran Duran's newest hit "Rio," the biggest mover of the week from No. 31 to No. 17, Laura Branigan's "Solitaire," which leaped from No. 18 to No. 14 and the two songs that chased one another up the countdown as Top 40 debuts just three weeks earlier -- Men At Work's "Overkill," which moved up from No. 15 to No. 9 and David Bowie's first Top 40 hit in seven years, "Let's Dance," which climbed from No. 9 to No. 6. Men At Work ultimately peaked at No. 3 ... Bowie went straight to No. 1 three weeks later.
All these great songs on one jukebox. One problem, though.
No money. I had spent whatever money I did get from mom on arcade games, not even thinking about the fact there might be a jukebox in some pizza place on the Point Pleasant boardwalk.
To my dying day, I will always defend 1983 as the greatest year musically of my life. I can't bring back being 16 years old again. That's long gone and far, far away. But I will always have the music and the memories of a day I took off from school because I wanted to.
And the jukebox that would only allow me to play songs ... if I had money.
It was nice, though, to press the buttons on that jukebox and make believe I was hearing those songs.
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