No Way Back Today

by Eric Shoars

  “Okay, I gotta share this,” Ellen moves on before any of us can respond to her last statement. “Can we put the picture up?” A heartbeat later the big screen behind us is filled with our fourth grade class picture that is featured on our website. I blurred out all the non-Onions faces in the photo before posting it on the site out of respect for our classmates’ privacy. “Was your class all in the witness protection program?” Raucous laughter from the audience as they see the only faces not blurred out are ours. It makes for a bizarre photo to be sure.

  I pipe up. “We weren’t just an elementary school, we were a made school.” Ellen lurches forward and laughs along with the audience.

  “Sounds like a tough school,” Ellen plays along. “Recess must have been an adventure just not to get whacked.” The four of us clap with appreciation at her cheekiness.

  “How are you taking being an overnight sensation? Did you expect any of this?” she inquires eyes wide with curiosity. As Ellen asks the question the images on the screen behind us turn into rotating tweets and Instagram images since our Saturday night show. It’s as unnerving seeing them on the big screen as it was first seeing them online.

  “Not at all,” Laurel answers. “This is a complete shock. Honestly, we hoped to not play in front of an empty room.”

  “When Eric told us about this idea I thought it was the dumbest thing ever. I didn’t want any part of it,” Todd says. “This is the most unbelievable thing I’ve ever seen. And we’ve just done one show.”

  “Yeah, your next shows are in St. Louis and Chicago, correct?” Ellen seeks to confirm.

  “That’s correct,” I answer. “Tickets still available for both shows,” I turn to the audience and grin. The audience chuckles and claps at my shameless plug.

  “I have a feeling there won’t be tickets for much longer,” Ellen says. “The thing that confuses me is the reunion tour aspect. How does that work when this is the first time you’ve played together?”

  My bandmates all look at me. “Well, I guess I’ll take this question,” I tease. “The reunion isn’t in reference to the band getting back together; it’s about reuniting four friends and making a dream become reality.”

  “But why only three shows?” Ellen follows up. “I would think you’d want to do more than that.”

  “This was never about being a long-term touring band,” I clarify. “We have jobs, lives, and responsibilities so taking a few months to play some gigs seemed like something the others could get behind,” I say gesturing with an arm sweep in my friends’ direction. “They did.” Three nods follow my assertion.

  “How are your friends and family reacting to this? Did they ask you if you were having a midlife crisis?” Ellen asks tongue in cheek.

  “We thought Eric was having a midlife crisis when he brought us together to tell us about his plan,” Todd says. “But that hasn’t been the reaction we’ve gotten from others.”

  “We did a friends and family show at the Surf Ballroom and the response was off the charts,” Lori says. “We made it into a class reunion and family reunion all in one. Playing a friendly audience was fantastic but their excitement clued us in that we might be on to something.”

  “Our kids have been terrific,” Laurel chimes in. “My three boys have been super supportive. After all, Mom’s not supposed to be a rock star. But they’ve embraced our tour without question.” Laurel pauses a few beats before continuing as the crowd claps in support. “My husband Seth and Eric’s wife Julie are our management team, Lori’s daughters handle our social media, and Eric’s daughters handle merchandise and order fulfillment.” Laurel nods to her own comments. “It’s been fun to share this experience with our kids.”

  “Lorelei,” Ellen addresses our keyboardist, “I see all these hashtags and quotes that state ‘Embrace the Good’ and I hear you came up with that. Where did that come from?”

  Lori smiles a little self-consciously now being the center of attention. “It goes back to the time in my life after my husband Dominic died.” She looks at us, then the crowd, then back to Ellen before continuing. “It’s easy to see the darkness around us especially when we face our challenges in life. Sometimes we can take the good things for granted and forget to take time to celebrate them.”

  Ellen asks, “Because people are so used to seeing the bad they don’t recognize the good?”

  “Right,” Lori replies. “Or believing we’re not worthy enough to have good things happen. “People should embrace the good, large or small, in their lives. That was a life philosophy I adopted and we adopted it for our band and for the tour.”

  “Love that,” Ellen approves. More applause.

  “Now, Eric,” Ellen shifts, “I was on the band’s website and watched the video of you talking to the class about your band teacher telling you that drums weren’t your thing. It got me to thinking about a friend of mine who encountered something similar...” I’m so focused on Ellen speaking directly to me the sudden applause and euphoria of the audience escapes my notice.

  “It’s Joan Jett!” Ellen exclaims as she stands and claps.

  “What? Where?” I ask suddenly searching for an image or video or something on a screen. By the time I look over my shoulder, the person who has caused the commotion is next to me. I feel my face go white as a wave of cold surges through my body. I’m standing but am not sure how or when that happened.

  “Ahhhh!” I cry out giving the impression a ghost suddenly appeared next to me. She’s only five feet, five inches tall but she is a giant to yours truly. She’s wearing black leather pants, black tank top with the words “Bad Reputation” on it, with black studded wristbands and a silver chain necklace with the symbol of her astrological sign - Virgo - hanging from it.

  “Hey, man, I’m Joan. Great meeting you,” she extends her right hand to me. I shake it out of reflex. It’sJoanJett It’sJoanJett It’sJoanJett It’sJoanJett It’sJoanJett It’sJoanJett the voice in my head tells me, trying to comprehend what my eyes and ears are reporting and the brain is not catching up. “Mind if I sit down?” she asks.

  “Oh, yes, yes, please,” I come to my senses. I motion her to sit next to me on the couch. My friends slide to their left so there’s enough room for my rock and roll idol.

  “I have all your albums, I’ve seen you in concert twice, I used to listen to your Bad Reputation and I Love Rock and Roll albums over and over while playing Atari in my room,” I rattle on as the 15-year-old me is in control of my brain not the 50-year-old.

  “So you’re saying you’re a fan,” Ellen deadpans. Raucous laughter. Being the butt of her joke is fine with me. Joan Jett is sitting next to me. She just shook my hand!

  “Listen, guys,” Joan Jett says to us, “I have a lot of respect for what you’re doing. When Ellen called me and told me to check out your band’s music...”

  Oh my God, Joan Jett just said our music. The Onions have music!

  “...and I watched your video about that band teacher. That spoke to me, man. When I wanted to learn how to play guitar, I told my guitar teacher I wanted to play rock and roll. He told me, ‘Girls don’t play rock and roll’. I said ‘bull’ and walked out. People like to tear you down. People are always going to take shots. You’ve just got to go for it. If you believe in yourself, you cannot listen to other people.”

  Audience applause interrupts her thought. She swivels to face the crowd and nods, acknowledging their understanding.

  After a brief pause, she continues. “I’m just really glad you guys had the guts to do something new at this stage of life, man. I’ve been doing this for a long time and I’m promoting the documentary about my career and I ask myself ‘Am I still enjoying what I’m doing? I need to find the fire again’,” she finishes her thought. I think the four of us are so star struck we feel like we’ve become the audience not the guests.

  “So what keeps you doing this, Joan?” Ellen ask
s. “You’ve been playing rock and roll since you were a teenager. What keeps you going? Why keep doing it?”

  “I’ve been thinking about that a lot,” Joan begins. “I’ve been thinking about rock in general. It’s always been a young person’s game, writing about sex, love, and partying. As rock and rollers get older, what do they write about? I’m not sure there’s an answer but we’re looking for it.”

  Everyone in the room ponders what the rock and roll Hall of Famer has shared. “That’s why I respect what you guys are doing, what your songs are about, what they stand for. It’s inspiring to me.”

  My inner me puts a finger in his ear rattling it as if to clear some sort of obstruction that causes a questioning of whether I just heard what I thought I just heard. Did Joan Jett just say she’s inspired by us? The hell?

  “I like your song Take the Day,” she continues. “Ellen tells me you’re going to play that song today. I took some time to learn it. Mind if I jam with you?”

  It’s tough for any of us to reply with our jaws lying on the floor. Joan Jett learned our song and wants to play with us? What? WHAT? This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. No way. NO WAY.

  Laurel comes to her senses first. “It would be an honor if you’d play with us.” All I can do is nod vigorously.

  “Wait a minute,” a voice belonging to no one on the set stops us. “No performing yet.” Everyone is looking for the owner of the voice telling us we can’t perform with Joan Jett. The audience sees her before we do and they erupt in applause and cheers once more.

  Ellen delays no longer to announce the next guest to her show, “Hey, everybody, it’s Sheila E!” Striding toward us in a long, flowing flowered dress is Sheila E. Long, dark hair cascades down over shoulders past her collarbone. She’s wearing tan, wedge sandals. Sheila waves vigorously in all directions as a hello to everyone.

  “Aw, damn,” I respond shoulders slumping, not realizing my microphone is still on. The show just stops when my comments are heard by all assembled. Dismay runs rampant. Why on earth would this guy say that? is what they must be thinking. “I was hoping this was real,” I say dejectedly. “But it’s just a dream.” My chin hits my chest like Charlie Brown after the tree ate his kite again.

  “You dummy, this is real!” Lorelei yells at me as she, Laurel, and Todd pinch me as one.

  “OW! Hey!” I yelp at the pinch attack. “Holy moley, it’s Sheila E and Joan Jett!” I say like they snuck in and I’m the first to notice.

  “Are you having some sort of medical emergency?” Ellen asks. I’m not sure if she’s kidding or not.

  “Hey, Eric, nice meeting you,” Sheila E greets, extending her hand. I shake her hand and think this is the best day ever for my right hand. If I didn’t need it to play drums, I’d cut the dang thing off and bronze it. In the meantime, the studio gets humid and my legs get wibbly-wobbly. This is getting a bit much for me to take.

  Todd hooks me under my left arm and holds me up. He leans in and whispers, “Can you at least try to keep your shit together?”

  “Hey, if that were Gene Simmons and Paul Stanley standing there I’d be hooking you under the arm,” I defend, hoping our exchange is quiet enough not to be picked up by the microphones.

  “Joan and I were talking back stage and agree how amazing what you’re doing is. I mean, wow. That’s great stuff,” Sheila E begins. “When Ellen called me and pointed me to your website I saw the post about my performance at the American Music Awards and I definitely saw the video of you using the light up drumsticks.”

  The scene on the screen shifts to show the video of me using the light up sticks at last Saturday’s show. It is a bizarre feeling to watch myself performing in concert on the set of Ellen standing next to Joan Jett and Sheila E. If it weren’t for the triple pinch I’d just received from my bandmates, I’d swear I was dreaming.

  “Now you know I’ve spent a lot of time in Minnesota, that I’ve played First Avenue, and the lit drumsticks are my thing, right?” Sheila E states to me. “You don’t think I’m going to let you play drums and steal my move, do you?” she finishes the thought causing me to deflate. I knew this was all too good to be true.

  “Hey, tiger, chin up,” she says to me, lifting my chin with her left index finger. “You don’t think I’m going to let you steal my move without using my drumsticks, do you?” Sheila E finishes. My heart goes from my feet to my throat in one beat. What did she just say to me?

  Before I can process any further, Sheila E raises her right hand that had been holding a small bag. In all the commotion, I hadn’t noticed she brought anything with her. Sheila E unzips the top of what almost looks like an old doctor’s medicine bag and pulls out two drumsticks.

  “These are the drumsticks I used at the AMAs in ‘85,” she says. “I want you to use these when you play now.” Sheila E punctuates her thought with, “I want a true fan to have these.” She extends the sticks to me, my trembling hands accepting them.

  “Thank you so much,” I say sincerely and reverently. “This is so generous. I don’t know what to say.”

  “We should thank Sheila E just for shutting this guy up,” Todd says. We all snicker.

  “Y’know, this show is only an hour long,” Ellen ribs us. “Think it’s time to play. Oh, and one more thing, Sheila E brought her bongos so she’s going to join Eric on percussion as Joan Jett plays rhythm guitar while Laurel plays lead guitar and Todd plays bass with Lorelei on keyboard.”

  The four of us jump at the realization we have a song to perform and two legends are joining us. We go into Onions At A Crime Scene mode and move as quickly as we can to our instruments, off to the stage area to the audience’s right.

  Joan Jett and Sheila E follow us and take their places. Ellen’s crew had been very sly because we never noticed they had set up the rock and roll legends’ instruments with ours.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Onions At A Crime Scene with Joan Jett and Sheila E!!!!” Ellen introduces us. Geez, that sounds weird but it’s a wonderful weird.

  All the people playing this song are looking at me waiting for the count. “One,” gets out but my voice cracks like I’m going through a second puberty causing gut-busting guffaws. I blush and give my throat a vigorous clearing.

  “One, two...one, two, three, four!” I proclaim with authority and we begin an amazing rock and roll fantasy come reality. Concentrating is challenging as I’m trying to focus on my playing while being a fan and watching Joan Jett and Sheila E go about their business. I’m so glad I set my DVR to record the show. I know I’ll need it as evidence this actually happened when we get back to the Midwest. Plus, I want to see what it looks like when we play with Joan Jett and Sheila E from the other side of the camera.

  Take the Day has never sounded so impressive. Maybe it is the playing of our guest artists but also because their presence has inspired us to take our music to the next level. There is power in our instruments and in our voices. This is the second time I’ve thought people will remember where they were when the Onions came to town. I know I’ll never forget it.

  The song arrives to the part where the drum solo comes in and at that instant the lights go out and the studio goes pitch black. Sheila covers me long enough with her bongos for me to flip the switch on the sticks. They light up neon green to start and I know they’ll cycle through colors as I rock the solo. Soon my drums are the only instrument being played. All eyes and ears are on me. This is freaking amazeballs.

  I hear the bongos to my right once again but something’s different. I glance over and see that Sheila E has put on light up gloves! Her hands are flying around and their track is matching my drumsticks beat for beat. As if I thought this moment couldn’t get any more epic, she just made it so. The solo - or is it a duet now? - finishes, the lights come back on, and all my current and guest bandmates jump back in.

  Ellen is on her feet dancing. No o
ne in the audience is sitting. Phones are out. Oh, hell yeah, we are so gonna be trending. I don’t know what Faith, Hope, Nicole, and Ashley are going to think about all this. They’re going to have a lot to handle with social media and order fulfillment.

  I wonder if our remaining shows will be sold out this week. Wouldn’t that be a hoot? The song comes to its end though I don’t want it to be so. This tour has gone from impossible to improbable to incredible. It’s gone from the sublime to the ridiculous. This makes no sense. None. And, yet, it’s happening.

  The Onions and our guests receive a standing ovation. It’s loud and wild and the biggest rush I’ve ever felt. I carefully lay my new drumsticks on my kit, dismount my drummer’s perch, walk over to Sheila E and give her a big hug. “You did me proud, man. Did me proud,” she says.

  “Thank you for the most amazing gift ever,” I reply. “I’m not just talking about the drumsticks.” She gives me a little extra squeeze before letting me give my regards to everyone else.

  High fives are exchanged with the Onions. We are jubilant. Ellen has sent the show to break and the crowd still stands showering us with a continuous ovation. We are grinning ear to ear. The last person in the greeting line is Joan Jett.

  “Man, keep rockin’,” she tells me. “Don’t compromise yourself or your music ever. No matter where the journey takes you, keep being you.” I nod taking my musical idol’s words to heart. “I want you to have this,” Joan says handing me her guitar. “It’s autographed to you. Thanks for being a fan and thanks for having the guts to grab your dream by the nuts.”

  “But I don’t play guitar,” my brain is so overloaded it’s being too literal. The guitar isn’t for me because I also play guitar; it’s her showing respect for me as a fan and as an artist. I catch myself quickly. “No, I get it now,” accepting the guitar she has extended to me.

  “It’s a head trip, isn’t it?” Joan Jett smiles at me.

  “Is it ever,” I agree admiring my new guitar. “I’m so grateful to you and Sheila E for being here and doing what you’ve done for us. You didn’t have to come to meet us or play with us.” I pause for a second to catch my breath. “I hope you know how much this means to me and to my friends. I will never forget this. Thank you. Thank you so much.”