Before there were Internet memes and inspirational quotes painted on distressed reclaimed wood, I jotted down favorite quotes in a journal. I have a series of journals from my teen years filled with angst, longing, and a yearning for belonging.
The year was 1985. I scribbled David Bowie lyrics onto some paper and tacked it up on my wall right next to the light switch. I’m quite certain my parents didn’t know what to make of it. When I wasn’t in boarding school I came home to a teeny tiny room that was big on personality. I decorated the walls with posters of Sting, David Bowie, David Lee Roth (I know!), and a collage of various fashion ads shorn from the pages of Vogue and Seventeen. I obsessed over all things John Hughes. The Breakfast Club spoke to me in ways nothing else did, every second of dialog fueling my teen psyche.
David Bowie’s Changes was an anthem for teens everywhere, giving us license to explore and experiment. It was our call to test ourselves, find ourselves, even lose ourselves. We were free to discover yet not commit. I recently played the song for my tween son, hoping he too would see how those few words resonate with the universal sense of teens being misunderstood. The passing of David Bowie opens up a new world beyond our go-to conversation starters like The Cure, Judy Blume, or Holden Caulfield.
My 47-year old self still sees the wisdom in these words.
“Time may change me.
But I can’t trace time.”
And just like that, another Jenga piece falls from my childhood. RIP David Bowie.