Mom, me and a rock icon
Seeing Rod Stewart gives writer an opportunity to stroll down memory lane with her mom
My parents raised my brother and me on good music. Household staples included Van Morrison’s “Moondance,” Elton John’s “Madman Across the Water,” Paul Simon’s “Graceland” and an impressive collection of Motown compilations. Save for “Maggie May,” Rod Stewart was not in my parents’ repertoire.
But given an opportunity to surprise your mother with tickets to an intimate live performance and interview with Rod, and write about it, you say yes. Obviously. I decided to make the experience a surprise for my mom. Planning began when I sent her a text a few weeks ago, inquiring about any Rod Stewart fandom perhaps I wasn’t aware of. Me: “Were you ever a Rod Stewart fan?” Mom: “I was when he was a rocker, his ‘Maggie May’ era.” Me: “Yeah, love that.” Getting Mom downtown on a Monday evening took gentle reasoning (read: lying).
After convincing her I was receiving an award at work and that neither my boyfriend nor father would be able to attend the ceremony, she agreed to make the trip from Aurora.
At 26, I jump at any opportunity to spend time with my mother. She emigrated from England as a child and grew up in London, Ont., where she worked as a hairstylist at a downtown salon in the mid-’80s. She remains a buoyant, positive person who looks up live web feeds of beaches from around the world just to enjoy the scenery.
She uses phrases like “heebie jeebies” and went through a period of loving Mary J. Blige’s “Family Affair.” She is charming, selfless, deeply loving and weird in the most wonderful way, and I can’t get enough of her. The night of the Rod Stewart show was no exception. When we arrived at Glenn Gould Studio, I confessed there was no award and explained what we were doing instead — seeing Rod Stewart sing three songs, and be interviewed live for an episode of Entertainment Tonight Canada.
Courtesy of Aeroplan, the exclusive experience was offered to its club of Distinction members — collectors who have saved sufficient miles — who can redeem for dExclusives rewards, such as concerts, premium seats at sporting events and getaway trips.
When I came clean about Rod Stewart, she had several reactions, ranging from, “I should’ve worn Spanx” to “Do we get to meet him?” and back to, “I should have worn two pairs of Spanx.”
She finished with, “OK, I’m excited now.”
After making use of drink tickets and settling into third row seats, we got down to business: taking selfies and talking about Rod.
“‘Maggie May’ is my favourite memory of Rod Stewart,” Mom tells me.
“It was a good summer song. It brings back memories of my youth. Being footloose and fancy-free, no worries in the world. Sunshine and heat and swimming and being with friends. Total enjoyment.”
We discuss Rod’s perennial hairstyle — highlighted, spiked, hovering between a mullet and a shag — and debate whether the 70-year-old star has had “work done.”
Stewart takes the stage, and the audience — mostly over 40 and mostly women — erupts in cheers typically reserved for the Justin Biebers of the world. Mom notes he “looks pretty good” as he launches into “You Wear It Well.”
Stewart doesn’t play “Maggie May.” He does sing “The First Cut is the Deepest,” during which Mom confesses she always wanted to be a backup singer (she says this while flicking her wrists, emulating Rod’s own backup trio).
The interview lasts an hour. Stewart talks about his eight kids, his days of rock star excess as a member of Faces and what he’s learned about love (don’t have a glass of wine and talk about something contentious before bed).
This might be the best part: sitting with Mom, listening to the stories and reflections of a singer whose career has spanned both our lives. She and I live only an hour apart, but it’s rare to spend a weekday evening like this, just the two of us, out in the city.
We round out the night with Mom’s first UberX ride and discussing how Stewart is much more down-toearth and much less, well, wrinkled than we anticipated.
When I get home, I look him up on Wikipedia and listen to the Every Picture Tells A Story album and look at grainy iPhone photos of Mom and me.
She sends me a text message the next day:
“Been thinking of last night, thank you for the awesome experience, it was great.”