For the love of all things Bon Jovi.

My sister and I are bonded by the musical genius of Bon Jovi, and in particular the band’s namesake lead singer, Jon Bon Jovi.

This bond started prior to 1988, but the release of I’ll be there for You solidified our bond into a unified obsession. Obsession is too meek a word to adequately describe the depth of the fanhood we both felt as JBJ fans in those years. We were all of 14 years old, Grade 9. 

Similar to many music adoring fans in the 80s and 90s, we recorded the megahit, “I’ll be there for You” video on our family’s VCR from the popular Canadian Music Show, Video Hits.  My sister and I must have watched and re-winded (as was a necessary step in those olden VCR days) and watched again at least 500 times. 

During those 5 minutes and 44 seconds, it was if Jon Bon Jovi was singing to our souls. Everything he represented was imprinted on our being.     

Careful attention was asserted to set our viewing environment. In our minds, the living room was transformed into Wembley stadium with seats for only two – me and my sister.  No family member could enter the room once the video was started, and if they ventured to do so, it was under the strict requirement of absolutely no sound. The rules were clear. If there was a distraction – for any reason whatsoever – during our video watching solitude, the video would be stopped and rewinded and watched again in its entirety. Our brothers may have tested this fate on occasion, but eventually, this non-negotiable fact earned its credence.    

Nothing came between us and the full visual and audio enjoyment of this song. It was the song of our youth. No other song came close. Or perhaps, it is more accurate to say, no other song with accompanied video came close.  It is the video that elevates this song to stratospheric prominence. The lyrics and melody are pleasing to the ears, but the video gives the sense of sight a bionic significance. At least it did for us at 14 years old.  The video has special moments. And the crescendo to those moments deserved more stillness. Those moments of visual perfection required a subtle lean of our bodies, to get closer to the television. Standing was our preferred posture choice to ensure full viewing attention. Any unnecessary amount of space between us and the presence of JBJ somehow lessened our experience, which may or may not require a video rewind and repeat. Anything less than perfect video watching conditions were grounds for us feeling robbed of this one true joy, equally shared and understood.   

There are magical moments in the video. These moments warranted a new category of acknowledgment. One such scene is at the 1:44 minute mark just as Jon Bon Jovi is concluding the chorus, and is singing so close to the microphone that his nose nudges ever so slightly against it, as he shifts his head downwards, almost as if to regain his strength for what’s to come. These little moments of perfect imperfection united us in our fanhood.  We knew exactly when they were coming. We braced ourselves for the inevitability of these familiar scenes and let the magic of Jon Bon Jovi wash over us.  Richie Sambora also has moments of musical stardom as well, in the shadows yet effortlessly achieved. Locked in our video vault of memories is the tilt of his cowboy hat and a sudden arm raise that is so perfectly choreographed in the video, it is impossible for us to not raise our right arm when we hear that part of the song. 32 years later we are still raising our arm in unison with Mr. Richie Sambora. 

Just past the halfway mark in the “I’ll be there for You” video, footage from their live concert in Wembley stadium is threaded in, and the video toggles between a black and white live performance and a full colour non-live performance. And simultaneously our attachment to Bon Jovi is transported to a whole other realm.  In those moments of musical transcendence, we renewed our vows to each other.  Someday, somehow, somewhere, we were going to see Bon Jovi in concert. Together. For two 14 year old’s in a small town in Newfoundland, this was a big promise.

As a die-hard JBJ fan, there was nothing more important than squeezing in an “I’ll be there for You” video before school. For us, at 14, it was the mental boosting equivalent of that first-morning coffee. For any teenager going through the morning ritual of readying themselves for school, 6 minutes can be the difference between sitting and eating breakfast with ease or grabbing a piece of toast on the run. The difference between actually styling your hair or merely brushing out the tangled messed of hills and valleys that have cemented from last night’s slumber. There is never enough time in the morning when you are a teenager.  

Yet nothing came between us and finding those 6 minutes in the morning. Not even the school bell. Not even a strict deadline to meet the bus at school for a class outing.

My sister insisted we watch the video, even when we were running behind during our morning routine.

She insisted we watch the video even on the one morning when we were absolutely required to be at school to meet and board the school bus for the departure of our scheduled class outing.

She insisted we watch the video even after we had already missed our daily scheduled bus pick up, which would have ensured we got to school on time – resulting in us having to walk, which added 20 minutes to our diminishing clock. We were not progressing in the right direction of time.   

As twins, our motto is ‘leave no twin behind’. We take the fall together. And so, we watched the video. All glorious 5 minutes and 44 seconds of it, and then began to haul our asses to school, walking as fast as we could, with an occasional sprint, knowing time was not on our side.  We had hope and the vivid memory of JBJ as our faithful companions.   

We did not make it.

There was no time for blame, as our thoughts quickly went to discerning how we would explain this to our parents. To our teachers.

We had nothing. It didn’t matter how many times we tossed our excuse back and forth, nothing sensible shook loose. Despite best efforts, we knew Bon Jovi was not a legitimate reason to miss school. Miss the bus. Miss the class outing. To us maybe, but we knew our parents and teachers would not see it that way.

Defeat was just entering its transition stage to shame, when we saw the familiar hue of the yellow school bus in the distance, growing in size as the space between us grew smaller. We hoped with every fiber of hope that it was our class bus. Hoping the driver would forgive our tardiness and reward our sprint efforts by collecting us on the street.  

We got lucky.    

We graciously boarded the bus and accepted the lighthearted well-intended jeers and laughter from our classmates, as we thanked the bus driver and our teachers for not leaving us behind.

On that day, we were just two 14 year old adoring fans. Teenagers being teenagers. Twins being twins.

On that day, we were still blissfully unaware as to how our motto of no twin left behind would be challenged over and over again.  

On that day, we were still blissfully unaware of how those early years of shared sisterhood moments were just training grounds – preparing us for what’s to come.

Preparing us for what no twin left behind really means.

“For the love of all things Bon Jovi” will be continued in Memoir, anticipated release May 2021.

With gratitude,

Nicole Osmond

Customer Success Coach

As a Customer Success Coach and 3 X business owner, I am living my passion and helping companies succeed by cultivating a customer committed mindset.

A Writer with Heart – I weave words together to stimulate, elevate, and motivate. My blog is my canvas to share my ‘experience nuggets’ with you! Thanks for stopping by! With gratitude, always – Nicole