More than a Feeling

I have some fond memories of the band called Boston. For one, smooching (yes smooching) this kid Alan in the back of his parents' station wagon while "More than a Feeling" rumbled through the tape deck and out of the speakers and onto my mohair sweater. Then later, slow, but not dirty, dancing to "Amanda" in the stinky, sweaty high school gym after a few too many clandestinely consumed wine coolers of the citrus variety.

I also have a few recent memories of this band, replace tape deck with CD player, replace Alan's back seat with KT's back seat, sandwiched between two child restraint devices while the real life Amanda listened from the front seat and KT played DJ, loud the only way to listen to Boston. There may not have been kissing involved, but that night, sitting in my driveway, speakers rumbling, doors locked to prevent the escape of the passengers, I could feel the love. Love for a band. Love for a time gone by. Love for a feeling. And I get it. I get why the band's official website was taken down and replaced with the statement: "We just lost the nicest guy in rock 'n' roll." I get why fans everywhere are sad. It's a loss. And it's sad.