Donna Summer Disco Queen – 5:00 Fridays

I never realized how R-rated all the song lyrics my friend Katie and I used to sing while swinging on the old metal swing set in the backyard back in the day. We’d toss our heads back and kick up our feet trying to make the post of the swing set pop out of the ground while singing all the tunes we’d heard our mothers play on the record player or the songs we heard on the radio  that you had to dial just-so to make the sound less crackly. We sang and kicked and sang and kicked until eventually, that concrete tip of the post leaned to and fro. Yeah, the 70s was an era of “safety first” alright. Katie and I sang about “hot August nights,” afternoon delight,” and our own meager imitation of groaning from Love to Love you Baby. We had no idea what was going on in that song. I’m blushing thinking about it now. And incidentally, I had no idea what “afternoon delight” even meant until I was in my thirties! Our parents never stopped us from belting out those tunes. This was either a mark of our parents engaged in their own 5:00 Fridays, the era of parents pretty much ignoring kids who were playing outside without blood or missing limbs, or the simple fact that people were less hung up on such things back then. I suspect it’s a combination of all of the above.

When I was young enough to be innocent clueless and old enough to be teetering on my own coming of age, I wanted to work hard for the money and be a bad girl who eventually grew up to be hot stuff. What I really wanted was hair like Donna Summer. Tried as I might with the crimper and wide tooth comb, I could never get that hair. I saw Thank God It’s Friday when I was too young to have seen it. I was mesmerized by the singing and dancing and understood little else. How was that movie rated PG? I had visions of a real disco and had only been to one for a brief time with my parents. I think that joint was called Grafitti’s or something like that. There were sparkly lights and slinky outfits and I imagine lots of cocktailing and grinding, but I didn’t make note of that. I’m not quite sure how we were even in there as kids anyway. But I do remember the dancing. Those women had heels up to here and dresses cut down to there just like Barry’s Lola. Donna Summer’s voice boomed while the couples danced, and I sat in quiet, tingly awe. It was riveting.

Alas, Donna Summer has had her last dance.

Donna Summer Disco Queen
3 ounces champagne
1 ounce Nuvo
1 tablespoon pureed strawberries

Put pureed strawberries into a champagne flute. Add champagne and Nuvo. Give the glass a gentle swirl. Don your dancing shoes and one shoulder jersey knit dress. Turn up the volume and sashay, swish, and sip.