I heard the song "Da Da Da" on the local rock radio station as I was driving to Watertown the other day. What a time warp. Nothing takes me back to the summer of 1997 like that song.

That was the summer I turned ten years old. I got a ten-speed bike for my birthday, and rode it to my best friend Kelly's house almost every day. That was the summer I bought my first CD, which, unfortunately, was Hanson's Middle of Nowhere. In my defense, I actually owned and loved London Calling prior to that--Hanson was just the first one I actually bought.

That was the summer that the Spice Girls filled the radio waves with "Wannabe" (didn't you just hate that song?). All the other little girls picked out their favorite Spice Girl and learned the dance moves to their songs. I remember being teased because I didn't know all the words to "2 Become 1." That was the first time I ever made use of my middle finger.

1997 was the year of Titanic, the year Leonardo DiCaprio went from serious actor to teenybopper posterboy. (At the time, though, I could have cared less about Leonardo DiCaprio. I'd just seen Stand by Me for the first time and had serious crushes on Wil Wheaton and River Phoenix.)

We were all enchanted by Volkswagen Beetles that year. It was a little girl's dream; the world's cutest car suddenly resurrected. I can't stand Beetles now, but back then, we all coveted a Bug. Drivers were wanted.

The Notorious B.I.G. and Gianni Versace were murdered in '97. Jimmy Stewart died of a pulmonary blood clot. Chris Farley accidentally overdosed. Princess Diana and Mother Teresa died within days of each other, and not even the Catholic kids cared about Mother Teresa's death.

All the other little girls bought Princess Di Beanie Babies. I went home and watched Rear Window three times when I found out that Jimmy Stewart was dead.

I don't know where I'm going with this post. 1997 was a big year for me. It was the year I really became aware. Jimmy Stewart was the first celebrity about whose death I actually cared. It was the year I embraced pop culture; it was the year that I figured out what ostracism really was. In a sense, it was the year when I realized that I couldn't be a kid anymore.