Facebook’s “memories” feature is a mixed bag.
The tool serves as a “this day in history” rundown of all your Facebook-centric activities from the time you started your account — which for some of us is coming up on 15 years. Has the internet even been around that long?
Like old-school, brain-based memories, sometimes Facebook memories are fun and nostalgic reminders of happy times and sometimes they’re cringe-worthy reminders of a person you no longer are.
Mostly, of course, they’re memes and pictures of cats with a little bit of salami.
This week, I was reminded of a surreal event from my past. The event is one that, in my brain’s memory, took place in the late summer and not in early December, which is odd for two reasons. First, you’d think that a memory such as I am about to relay would be intrinsically linked in my mind for having taken place only a few days before my birthday and secondly the memory is only from 2016, so you’d think it’d be pretty clear, but I guess I am getting old and things are fuzzy.
Anyway, and you may have heard this story before, but this week marked the three-year anniversary of the time that I met and was witnessed by one of my childhood role models and favorite actor — Corey Feldman.
It all started when Corey Feldman embarked on a tour for his double-album, “Angelic 2 the Core,” which features the surprisingly fun pop song, “Ascension Millennium” that has an even more fun one-take music video.
I went to one of Feldman’s concerts in the San Fernando Valley with a few friends, excited to witness the show live. Feldman — and his band, a group of scantily clad “angels” — had appeared in a much-talked about “Today Show” segment only a couple of months earlier, so the excitement was palpable.
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My friend and second-place GWAR fan according to Spotify, Travis, shouted out my name during a lull between songs when Feldman was thanking a list of people. It was the proverbial “Freebird” move, just with my name instead. Whether to play along with the crowd or because Feldman was confused and thought someone in his entourage was reminding him to thank a person named “Parker Bowman” that he had no memory of, he obliged and echoed the suggestion. Feldman gave me a shout out on stage.
It was, at the time, the most surreal moment of my life. That is until about 45 minutes later when we somehow got backstage and met him. He was very generous with his time and gracious despite the fact that we basically strong-armed our way back stage. The surreality was topped yet again shortly thereafter when I interviewed him for my then-paper (once again, he was very generous with his time, as I kept him 20 minutes longer than we agreed upon.)
I recounted the aforementioned story when writing up that interview, which prompted Feldman to post the interview on Twitter with a remark that I wanted people to know my name. This kind of stung and I regret to think that Feldman (or at least his social media manager) failed to see my point.
The story wasn’t about myself (although when you’re a writer, everything you write is about yourself to one degree or another), it was about my excitement to be meet one of my heroes. So, I guess it was about me. But it was mostly about Feldman.
I grew up watching Feldman. Time and time again in my life, he was the embodiment of “cool” to me. In kindergarten, a friend and I nicknamed each other Tod and Copper because we loved “The Fox and the Hound,” for which Feldman voiced the cartoon hound (or maybe the fox, I forget).
When I got older, Feldman was my favorite character in the seminal '80s kid movie, “The Goonies,” he voiced my favorite ninja turtle (the shy one) in the “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles” movie, he was a pre-teen horror movie-obsessed monster hunter in “Friday the 13th: The Final Chapter,” he played a vampire hunter who ran a comic book shop in “The Lost Boys,” which was what I wanted to do when I grew up (the comic book store owner and the vampire killing, it’s a packaged deal), he taught me about how freeing a driver’s license would be in “License to Drive,” he was a rebellious punk in one of my favorite childhood movies — “Rock and Roll High School Forever,” (a movie he has no memory of making, he told me and that, co-star Mary Woronov told me was “awful” when I met her at a horror convention).
No matter where was in pre-adult life, there was a version of Corey Feldman embodying the things I thought were cool at the time.
Anyway, I hear a lot of horror stories that give credence to the old adage, “don’t meet your heroes” (and I actually have a couple), but I’m glad that Facebook is going to remind me every year about the time that I was witnessed by Corey Feldman.