To think 157 months have passed since that cold, sad day in December, 2000, when Posh, Ginger, Scary, Sporty and Baby announced the Spice Girls as a group were taking an indefinite hiatus.
Like most Americans, I remember where I was when the news broke — standing in a bakery buying raspberry danishes for some of the fellas down at the filling station. The town bakery was a lively place, with pagers going off all the time over one fool thing or another. So when I heard three of the little gizmos beeping away at the back of a line, at first I thought nothing of it. Then a woman pushed into the store with a hand to her ear, cradling a Startac Cellular Telephone.
“It’s over,” the woman cried, snapping her phone shut with shaking hands and pushing the antenna down in stunned disbelief. “The Spice Girls… they’ve gone and flown back to England…”
Then she burst into wracking sobs of cataclysmic loss while the good people in the bakery crowded around her. They offered words of comfort, to her and each other. And you know what? It was enough.
People were different back then. They pulled together when things got tough. And as hard as it was dealing with the loss of Sporty, my favorite (she could take a punch and still keep perfect pitch), I knew the hardest hit would be the young girls who looked up to them for fashion tips and philosophy stuff.
At the end of the day, we did what we as a people always do. We hugged our children and told them we loved them. We went to our jobs and rebuilt from what was left. We never forgot, but we endured.