I have taken a lot of shite over the years because of one Jim Morrison.
The appeal of the songwriter, poet, native Floridian, oldest of three kids to a U.S. Navy rear admiral, film school grad and leader singer of the Doors completely escaped me.
Most of my life I avoided much of their music. I thought the Doors were...just okay. I didn't get what all the worshipful hubbub was about. Often when I would express my Doors displeasure, music fans looked at me like I had tossed dog droppings in the collection plate at church.
I had several boyfriends, starting when I was 18, who were huge Doors fans and it pained them terribly that I wasn't Door-sy.
In my thirties a boyfriend demanded I tell him why I didn't favor the Doors.
I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Here we go again.
"They are pretentious." I said.
He was deeply wounded.
As a teenager I used to frequently attend concerts at a now dissolved but iconic New Orleans music hall called the Warehouse. I was there every chance I got—in front of the stage, backstage and on one accidental and comical occasion, onstage (with Cheap Trick, long may they prosper.)