Evening music at the park is my favorite summer activity, but I have seen few outdoor concerts in the past 15 months. Earlier this week, we learned that our favorite local band was playing again, and had a gig Tuesday night.
Sitting in my folding chair at the park where the band played, I was very aware of what was going on around me. I took some notes on my phone, knowing I would want to remember.
Here are the notes, verbatim.
French citizen with skinny guy, three women in hats, flag lady survived, little darlin, breeze, trees, sun setting, rocky mountain high, singing in spite of myself. old lookers but prolly my age.father and son lookalike, woman crying and another woman wipes her tears rocky mtn high.husky puppy csn 4 dead this summer I hear the drumming. Cinnamon girl California dreaming…
I think it’s gonna be all right yeah, the worst is over now. Don’t let the past remind us of what we are not now.
And I wrote a little poem. No title.
Little darlin, rocky mountain high, Kathy, I'm lost, by the time we got to Woodstock . . . One flag-waving sprite, arms jerking and dipping in time to the music, is in place as always. She made it through, and no longer annoys me, and she is here in the music. Two dancers – only two – slow-dance in the cool grass – content little man and zaftig Frenchwoman (She Is An American Citizen Now! The crowd cheers!). They are here in the music. Three straw hats “Let’s all wear our hats! I’ll bring a blanket.” The women caring for one another with laughter and gentle hands – stroking hair brushing cheek – the three are here in the shade and in the music. Five hundred weary souls rest in the music And maybe the musicians are fed by the energy of our singing – becasue how can we not? We meet old friends and remember absent friends, And we are now, all of us and with one another, in the music.
Copyright 2021 Catherine Beeman