Back in 1996 Tom Hanks made his film writing and directorial debut with the film, That Thing You Do, which follows the fictional 1964 rock band, The Wonders, and their rollercoaster ride of stardom and its pitfalls both professionally and personally. As they attempt to navigate the challenges of the music industry, they struggle with whether they will end up being a one-hit-wonder based on their one hit song, That Thing You Do.
One of the things about the song that I’ve always appreciated is the way at first glance of the title, you think it’s going to be about something truly wonderful, the thing that makes the song’s narrator (the singer) fall in love with the girl he’s singing to and about. But what he’s actually focusing on is the way she can break his heart into a million little pieces. Not exactly the kind of song that inspires much hope for what might happen in the course of the fictional band’s plight.
Of course, as with all such love songs, the singer believes beyond all rational thought or hope that this girl is his one true love. Except that she isn’t. And no matter how hard he tries to convince himself or her, that thing she does likely will always be breaking his heart.
It’s an interesting twist, you know, because to me, that phrase should apply to the thing (or things) the one(s) we do that bring us joy and draw us to love them more and more. Despite this phrase being adopted to the opposite, I still hold fast to the idea that the phrase brings to my mind those things I love and appreciate about the people who matter to me.
In fact, that is pretty much how I tend to approach these blog posts, as a review of the many things my teenagers do that bring me joy, inspire gratitude in me, and bring to mind the many ways I love each of them. For example, the other day, I was over the moon with delight as I witnessed and enjoyed my 15 year old’s absolute joy and excitement over the new episode of one of her favorite web-based shows. For several days before the episode dropped, she was filled with that sense of anticipation for something new from a favorite artist. I’m sure we’ve all been there, waiting with bated breath for an announcement about a new song, a concert tour, a new book, a new film, a new television show episode.
For quite a while after watching it, she sat alone in her room considering and contemplating and replaying the ideas in her mind. When she came downstairs, it was so much fun to watch her face light up and listen to her talk about how much she loved it and what she loved about it and how the other fans were responding to the episode. I had no idea about the episode itself, though I am familiar with the characters from listening to her and her sister talk about previous episodes and the characters. But, here’s the thing—I don’t need to know about the thing in order to listen to my teenagers talk about the thing they love or appreciate their joy and delight.
This is similar to listening to my 17 year old talk about discovering lost demos of some of her favorite musicians, songs she only gets to hear if she scours YouTube. Like her sister, I love the way her face lights up as she talks about coming across something new-to-her by an artist she knows really well. While there can also be a bit of disappointment that she cannot get copies of those early demo albums, she still has such a wonderful appreciation for them and I love to listen to her when she talks about them. Again, I don’t need to know about the thing because for me it’s not about the thing. Rather, it’s about them, my teenagers. It’s about the things they love and the things they do—the way their eyes sparkle and their smiles widen and their words spill out faster and faster—when they encounter those things they love. And, boy, do I love that thing about both of them.