Tonight would have been a first for the General. Of course, it is not exactly that I’m old school when it comes to attending an Avett Brothers concert either. However, having been to one a couple of years ago gave me the advantage of knowing what to expect. It is one of those things where only experience counts.
I had the good fortune of attending my first Avett Brother’s concert with a long term friend who lives in Denver. Mike extended the invitation for the concert at Red Rocks in Colorado, simple because he was aware that I was a fan of their music. (I first wrote “seeing my first Avett Brother’s concert” but “seeing” is one dimensional – it falls dramatically short of describing the experience.)
I honestly didn’t know what to expect. I had viewed the Red Rocks Amphitheatre website, but the thought of 20,000 people at a concert was outside any frame of reference I’ve ever experienced. I also had never been to a tailgate party.
Apparently, early arrivals always plan on a picnic of sorts before the venue. I was surprised at the number of folks already parked when we arrived. Some were sitting in lawn chairs behind their vehicles. We fell in line and followed suit. It wasn’t a half bad way to invest some time.
We finished our sandwiches in time to make it into the amphitheater way ahead of schedule. In fact, the row of seats where we were assigned was almost vacant. We were not in the nosebleed section, but located about mid-way between the stage and the back of the venue. As I said, “We were early and there were lots of vacant seats .” By the time the performance began the venue was actually packed.
A lady was sitting in the seat next to Mike. I introduced myself to her and then introduced her to Mike. Her name is Lori. I told her thatif I said her name three times, I would remember it. Consequently, I repeated her name three times. There are some people you meet and intuitively you know they are “salt of the earth kind of people” and people you’d like to get to know. That was true of Lori.
After introducing myself, I asked: “So, are you from Denver?” Lori said: “No, we are actually from Raleigh, NC”. As we talked, I discovered she and her husband had traveled to Denver on Thursday for the expressed purpose of seeing the Avett Brother’s in concert on Friday night. They also had plans and tickets for fourteen family members and friends to join them for Saturday night’s performance. Lori talked about Seth and Scott, the Avett brothers, like they were long-time family friends. By her own admission, she doesn’t really know them, but based on their music and the way they present themselves, she feels like they have a connection.
What I didn’t know is what I didn’t know. As I looked around the venue, my mind wandered momentarily toward the blog I’d write the following day. Sure, I could write about Red Rocks and make it interesting and favorable. However, once the concert began, the grandeur of Red Rocks paled significantly in contrast to the music. I don’t have the words to adequately describe the music other than say the words of the songs resonated with that which is familiar and deeply personal.
John Steinbeck once said of writing: “Unless one’s story is everybody’s story, it won’t last”. I think the same must be true of songs. The Avett Brothers have the gift to put in writing and express through music the profound stories and thoughts associated to everyone’s pilgrimage. In the process of sharing their own stories, they prophetically script those of men everywhere. Most people never stop long enough to craft the thoughts and find the words for themselves, but once they hear the lyrics expressed, it becomes their story because it is their story.
So tonight would have been a big night for the General and me. It would have been the General’s first Avett Brother’s concert and my second. I purchased our tickets the first day they became available. That was months ago. I haven’t been actually counting the days, but in some respect, I felt like a 73-year-old kid waiting for Christmas. I could hardly wait for the General to have the experience. Of course, it would be my good fortune to be her date.
If describing myself as a “73-year-old kid” sounds strange to you, I explained it yesterday’s blog. Borrowing a line from Clint Eastwood, “I am not going to let the old man in”. Of course, as is true of a lot of other things, that is easier said than done. I’ve got all the credentials I need to play the part of the old man, but it isn’t a part I want to play or one that I think would serve me well. I’d much prefer to continue to nourish the kid who still resides somewhere deep inside.
I certainly don’t want to ever be thought of as a “cranky old man”. Actually, I don’t want to be thought of as “old” regardless. I want to represent an openness to change and continue to grow in spirit and in truth. I’m not done yet.
As I considered the pandemic that has altered a lot of plans, including the now cancelled Avett Brother’s concert, I wrote myself a note last week. I wrote the note because I didn’t want to forget my resolve. The resolve made me feel good. Why not write it down as a reminder in the event I should forget.
Like I shared earlier, today’s reminder on my Outlook Calendar that today is the day put a smile on my face. The calendar reminder could have gone either way. I had a choice to make. I could choose to smile or choose to frown. Which choice would you have made?
The note I scripted to myself last week is an important note: “A new normal will evolve from traces of what we valued most about yesterday. I’m not going to easily forfeit the dream of on-going contact with others”.
Perhaps, I’ve got the Avett Brother’s to thank for where I find myself this morning. “No Hard Feelings” is the song that drew me to their music. It is also an approach to life that will serve one well. I had a choice to make when outlook reminded me that today is the day. Consequently, I chose to smile rather than frown. The frown would have set the tone for the day. The smile will serve me better. It will give me an openness for enjoyment. The frown would have closed the door.
All My Best!
Don