by Eric Shoars
The timeline picks up again in January 2018 and there is mark after mark, date after date plus pictures and news clippings noting important happenings from our reunion journey. The Surf ballroom. Practices. The Jason Show. Mall of America. First Avenue. Ellen. Joan Jett. Sheila E. St. Louis. Selfies with fans. Candid shots behind stage and during the show and all the moments in-between. It is marvelous.
“I don’t get it,” Laurel points. “Why is there a picture of a messy counter?” All of our attention is focused on a picture from earlier this year. When I see it I almost fall over.
“Julie! Nicole! Ashley!” I exclaim. “Who took this picture?”
Ashley’s hand shoots straight up with pride. “This one girl, Dad!”
“How on earth did you get this photo?” I ask in wonderment.
“It wasn’t that difficult,” my youngest asserts. “You were so mesmerized by what was on the counter it was pretty easy to take a picture of it. I’m not sure why I took it but it just seemed like something I should do.”
“Kiddo, you are one fast thinker,” I tell her. “Thank you for doing so.”
“Someone mind filling us in what we’re looking at?” Todd asks impatiently. I walk my bandmates through the inspiration for our group’s name. Laurel and Lorelei are in spasm over the origin of our band’s name. Todd less so.
“Are you shitting me?” he says hands on hips. “We were named after a messy supper?”
“Hey,” Nicole pipes up not thrilled with Todd’s apparent diss. “After a messy family supper. Like tonight.”
“Oh,” Todd responds relaxing a bit. “I guess that’s okay then. This started with a family supper and ends with a family supper. Appropriate.”
“That’s our Eric,” Lorelei chimes in. “Always likes things tied up in a nice, neat bow.” Everyone in attendance nods at Lori’s observation.
A tremendous amount of work went in to this. A lifetime of living done by a band that’s lived less than a year. A lifetime of memories created. My mom always said that no matter what happens in life - good or bad - we’re just making memories. And we have created so many. Not just for the four of us. For our families. For our fans. This was such a blast.
“Whoa,” Laurel marvels as we move to the next stop down the line. The wall is covered - every square inch - with emails, tweets, IG posts, and Facebook posts from fans that the girls printed out and taped to the wall.
The messages are a testimony of the true impact of Onions At A Crime Scene. It is incredible. A sniff comes from over my shoulder. Lori grabs a tissue and wipes her nose. I notice we all have tears in our eyes.
The Onions exhale in unison. Sometimes there truly are no words. This reunion started out being about the four of us getting back together. None of us could have ever envisioned this. Certainly not me.
“We’re so proud of you all,” Seth says coming up behind his wife and putting his hand on her shoulder. They are then joined by Christopher, Colin, and Cole. Julie, Nicole, and Ashley come up behind me, Meredith to Todd, Faith and Hope to Lori.
Emotion overcomes us all and we weep. Not sure why. Maybe it’s how meaningful this tour is to us. Maybe it’s how meaningful this tour has been to others. We wanted to connect with people through our music and, wow, what a connection it is.
“Damn allergies,” Todd says with a loud sniff, wiping tears from his eyes. The rest of us curse our allergies as well followed by four hard exhales.
“The next part is my favorite,” Meredith announces.
“There’s more?” Todd asks his true love. She smiles at him and points him to the table a few feet down the line. Resting on top of the table are four tri-fold display boards. We each have an individual board containing photos from childhood up to just before the Onions formed.
We move sideways and lean in to check each other’s boards. We delight in seeing all the moments in one another’s lives through the years that led us here. I stop and take stock of where we are. The boards are in order - and now so are we - Todd, Eric, Laurel, and Lorelei. T.E.L.L.
“I see what you did there,” I say loud enough for all to hear. “Who did it?”
“Over here!” my sister Ani’s hand goes up. “Circle of life, big brother.” The four of us shake our heads and smile. The only thing I can think to do is to start singing the chorus of All Those Ones and Zeroes.
“All those ones and zeroes,” I begin.
“Traveling through time,” the other three jump in and we proceed to sing our song acapella.
“Who’d have thought that digital code would reunite us down the line?” Lorelei grabs Laurel’s hand who grabs my hand then I grab Todd’s hand. He’s okay with holding my hand in this moment.
“With all those little bits across cyberspace, all our prayers are answered. Our childhood dreams are taking place.”
Then we just stand here holding hands keeping our own thoughts. I look over my shoulder as I hear a roomful of sniffles. Our impromptu song has moved anyone in the room with a pulse. I become aware that my friend Jen didn’t come by herself. Her cameraman is with her.
“Um, Jen,” I say, releasing my hand holds so I can turn to face her. “I thought you’d shot all of your video for Nude Hippo.”
Jen beams. “I did,” she confirms and then sweeps her arm like she’s showcasing a new car on a game show. “But WMAQ TV wants to do a larger feature story on the band and when Julie told me about the surprise party, I knew I wanted to get some video from this as well. Plus, I had to be here for the next part of the surprise.”
My three bandmates turn to face the assembled once more. “Next part of the surprise?” Laurel repeats as a question.
Stepping forward as if on cue is someone we recognize instantly. It’s Ian Read the CEO of the company that makes Centrum Silver. What on earth is he doing here?
Jen steps next to Todd as her cameraman moves in closer to get the best shot. “Everyone, I’d like to welcome a very special guest who flew in especially for this event. Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Ian Read, CEO of the company that makes Centrum Silver.”
Welcoming applause as Mr. Read approaches us and stands next to Lorelei. He looks to his right so he can make eye contact with us all down the line. He stands about five inches taller than Lori. Mr. Read looks to be in his mid-60s with a Roman emperor wreath of gray hair from ear to ear with round wire-rimmed glasses. He is dressed in a sport coat with a light blue shirt with a button-down collar, pants that match his sport coat, and brown Italian shoes.
“Lorelei, Laurel, Eric, and Todd,” Mr. Read begins, “never has Centrum Silver sponsored a project like this before. We found the idea of this reunion tour so intriguing we couldn’t resist being part of it. Our sponsorship of Onions At A Crime Scene has been one of the best things we have ever done. Sales of our products have increased since your tour began and the only thing we’ve done differently in our marketing this year has been sponsoring your tour. You four have exceeded our expectations.”
Hearty clapping and cheers interrupt Mr. Read. The four of us smile and nod. I can’t help but think back to the moment at the Surf Ballroom when we pulled that big-ass check out of the priority envelope. We really have come a long way since that night.
“As one of my final acts before stepping down as CEO,” Mr. Read picks up his thought, “it is my pleasure to express our gratitude by presenting you this check for one hundred thousand dollars.”
Mr. Read moves to his left, leaving Lori’s side, to hand the check to me. I accept it simply because that’s what one does when another person extends something to you. But things aren’t tracking for me and, by observation, the others as well.
“Thank you, Mr. Read, but I’m confused. The money you gave us originally paid for everything. There’s nothing left for us to purchase. Why are you giving us more?”
“Oh,” Mr. Read says, “my apologies for not finishing my though
t. The money isn’t for you. We’re so grateful for what you’ve done and for what you stand for that this check is for you to donate on Centrum Silver’s behalf to fight human trafficking.”
My legs give out and find myself kneeling on the floor. This was the last emotional straw and I break down. My bandmates join me as we huddle in one puddle. “You people are killing us,” I squeak as we four are overcome by the outpouring of generosity and goodwill. Those are the only words any of us can get out.
Julie steps between us and the CEO who has literally brought us to our knees, reaches out, and shakes his hand.
“Mr. Read, on behalf of the band, we’d like to thank you for your belief in Onions At A Crime Scene when it was just an idea and for your generous contribution to fight human trafficking,” Julie tells him. “They are proud to have represented your product, your company, and your team.”
Mr. Read smiles and then Jen ushers him to a corner to get some additional comments for her story but also to give us time to pull ourselves together. Julie and Seth come over with boxes of tissues so we can wipe away tears and clear our sinuses.
“Well, surprise party certainly did live up to the name,” I say followed by a long honk into my tissue.
“It’s all so overwhelming,” Laurel adds dabbing away tears. “What a way to end the tour.”
“No more surprises, right?” Todd asks with a tone that sounds more challenge than question.
“Please?” Lori pleads.
***
We are all pacing. We never pace. We’re restless, nervous, and impatient. What we’re about to do isn’t new to us but what is new is that this is the last time we’ll do this. We’re pumped to put on a show for the fans who are wound up and ready to go. Something Resembling Responsible again did their usual excellent job of lathering up the crowd. It’s our time now – see what I did there? – to give the people what they came to see.
The Onions are riding an emotional high from our surprise birthday party which was so life affirming. I think our birthday party also increased our apprehension because we’re putting pressure on ourselves to make this last show our best show.
Peeking out from behind the curtain I see our family and friends all lined up in the front row.
Our team is usually working their usual support roles but not tonight. For our last effort we want each of them to be able to enjoy the show as a concert goer not a staff person. We all should be able to enjoy ourselves for this last performance.
I smile catching sight of Jen DeSalvo and her husband with my family. Julie said she was going to have them escorted to the front and that she did. Jen is rocking a little black dress that flares out slightly as it gets close to her knees. Her husband stands about six inches above Jen. He is sporting an untucked black, short-sleeved shirt with blue jeans and red hightops.
A room full of fists punches the air as the chants continue. On those wrists are the Taylor Swift-inspired light up wristbands. There are “Embrace the Good” t-shirts everywhere. Again a crowd of strangers proves to me how we have bonded with them and them us. The blessings never seem to end.
“Two minutes to show time,” Rob the stage manager alerts us.
As time ticks away and the curtains are about to part one last time I think of something Sheila E said to me as we said goodbye on the Ellen set.
“When I first picked up a set of sticks and got behind a kit, I didn’t know where this road would take me. You never do. There’s no way you can plan for the highs, the lows, the incomparable successes and unforgettable losses. Even now, all I can be is thankful to keep doing what I love, and for this journey that has never, and will never, give you all the answers at once. One thing’s clear...there’s no place I’d rather be.”
Those words ring true as the crowd chants, “Onions, Onions!” My breathing gets fast and shallow. I exhale hard to calm myself down with a conscious effort to slow my breathing. The Onions’ concert tonight will be remembered for many things but the drummer hyperventilating will not be one of them. I become aware of how clammy my hands feel and wipe my sweaty palms on my pants. Can’t have Sheila E’s best drumsticks fly out of my hands, can I?
Normally we’d be a bit chattier but we’d decided to not say anything before this last performance. We wanted to give each other the opportunity to have his or her own experience, to be present for ourselves and no one else, to soak in all around us, to soak in all that has blessed us...tonight and all through this ride together. This one time we’re not in our normal positions on stage before the show begins. We’ll take our places after we’ve been announced.
An aroma of whisky, sweat, and jubilation moves through the air. The hair on the back of my neck seems to be jumping in time with the crowd. Chills roll through my body starting at my feet and working their way up. My friends and I just stand here with goofy smiles on our faces. We’re ready.
“Seems like Chicago is kinda your town,” Garrett, the Bottom Lounge’s house announcer teases us as he moves past us. He continues his way onto the stage and then knifes between the curtains. A roar comes forth from the floor.
Garrett waves to those assembled and then moves his arms in a motion to encourage the crowd to get louder. Trying to be heard over the crowd he yells, “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Chicago’s Bottom Lounge! You’ve been waiting for them and here they are! Please welcome for the final performance of their No Way Back Today reunion tour…Onions At A Crime Scene!” The crowd erupts with near deafening cheers, whistles, and clapping.
“One more time,” Todd says breaking our silence.
“One more time,” the rest of us repeat, grinning.
“Let’s give ‘em the show they came here for!” Lorelei exhorts.
The curtains part on cue and the four of us jog on stage and wave to the mass of humanity as we take our places. Spotlights are on us. Crowd’s manic and we haven’t played a note yet. On my left is the set list. On my right is a hand-drawn picture of a band I drew in 4th grade. Stomach calms. The smile on my face is almost as bright as the lights shining on the band.
Todd, Laurel, and Lorelei turn to me and we have one last beat to take measure of an odyssey filled with the improbable, the inspirational, and the incredible. We smile, nod, and stick out our tongues at each other. Then we return our attention to the fans. In a split second before beginning the count and bringing down the drumsticks to begin Take The Day a thought flashes in my mind:
Is this the end of Onions At A Crime Scene?
If KISS, REO Speedwagon, .38 Special, Van Halen, and all the other bands we grew up with have taught us anything it’s that you can have more than one reunion tour and that it’s never over till the Farewell Tour is done. And tonight is goodbye but not farewell.
***
NO WAY BACK TODAY
Lyrics
“TAKE THE DAY”
(Intro line) How could we forget?
VERSE 1
Those sweet childhood days
Naivety and carefree fun
In the schoolyard, as we played
We go back to yesterday
Reminisce of good times
So glad, that this day came
CHORUS
Old friends, we can’t let this dream end
God only knows what’s around the bend
Seize the moment, take the day
Sing and laugh and dance and play
VERSE 2
You know we had this rock dream
That we’d become a band
we’d rock out all night
our name up there in lights
microphones in our hands
Moms and Dads didn’t understand
CHORUS
Old friends, we can’t let this dream end
God only knows what’s around the bend
Seize the moment, take the day
/> Let’s sing and laugh and dance and play
VERSE 3
Never let go of your dream
No matter how crazy it seems
That child’s still inside you
begging to be set free
Feel the passion in your heart
That’s where you’ll find the key
BRIDGE
Now it’s time
Let’s make the soundtrack
to the rest of our lives
Let our inner children thrive
And really feel alive
FINAL CHORUS
Old friends, we can’t let this dream end
God only knows what’s around the bend
Seize the moment, take the day
Sing and laugh and dance and play
Repeat chorus to end
“1986”
VERSE 1
Longing for the day we’d be free to go
Rolling through winter
Riding that big yellow bus in the snow
Our rolling prison
fingertips etched 86
in the windows
CHORUS
86, 86
The year that we longed for so hard
86, 86
The year when our lives could finally start
86, 86
Etched with our fingers in the frost on the glass
VERSE 2
Many long years waiting for that great day
How time has changed us
We used plastic to play now we use it to pay
We found our freedom
We lived by their rules
but now we make our own
CHORUS
86, 86
The year that we longed for so hard
86, 86
The year when our lives could finally start
86, 86
Etched with our fingers in the frost on the glass
BRIDGE
Our futures, our freedom
In frosted panes of winter