There's nothing like a rock concert to make you feel eighteen again... the music pounds so hard it chips away the years. You can't remember if you turned off the coffee pot, but lyrics long-buried in the rubble of your brain flow out of your mouth - the soundtrack to scenes of your life, years past.
But there's also nothing like watching a middle-aged man rocking out in front of you, long gray hair perfectly blow-dried and curled under, to remind you you're not really eighteen... you're over 50, and if your kids saw you dancing like this they'd be horrified. But you dance anyway.
That was how I spent last Saturday night: in late 70's rock-and-roll heaven, listening to the music of Kansas, Foreigner and Styx in the Cynthia Woods Pavilion, standing as close to the stage as you can get without being in the "sweat zone" (as in, the sweat of the performers on stage) thanks to my sweet friends Shari and Robert. Well, mostly thanks to Shari - she's the one with connections thanks to her weekend job.
But Robert drove us there and back, shared the great pictures he snapped with his phone (I left my camera behind - originally we had seats "on the hill", exposed to the storm clouds, and I didn't want to take a chance getting it wet) and the next day pitched in on our pancake breakfast before we headed out to flea markets, so I owe him a big thank-you, too.
At the concert, we even reconnected with Doug and Cheryl, friends we haven't seen since high school - well, in my case, junior high! I'm not sure if that made me feel young or old...
I am sure about this, though - we might not be eighteen anymore, but we still know how to rock a weekend!
(photos courtesy of Robert and Cheryl)
