The Tenth Anniversary - Never Forget

Yes, I will never forget.


• That morning at my new (7 months then, now 10.5 years) job.

• MSNBC.com and CNN.com being down due to the huge unexpected traffic to their sites.

• The co-worker that has a sibling as a pilot and was awash in worry.

• The corporate e-mail allowing employees to leave at 11 AM.

• Picking up my sweet 5 (now 15) year old daughter from school early.

• Trying to shield her from my crying and shaking.

• Talking to my then friend and now husband who called from the Orlando airport where he was scheduled to fly from there to Boston.

• Spending the rest of the day watching news updates in horror.

I spent a moment in silence this morning honoring all who lost their lives on that beautiful September day 10 years ago.

And I thank and genuflect in gratitude to all of those who fight for my freedom. I spent this Sunday lazing around, going to the market and readying for the upcoming work week. I was able to do this freely thanks to those who are actively fighting to keep the evil and hate at bay.

Make sure you kiss your loved ones and tell them how much you love them. Every day. I know I will.

Quitcherbitchen (a nod to Teri Garr)

(The above is a great shot that Taylor took which showcases her talent and includes the puzzle mentioned in the below post)

I spent some time this morning feeling down, whining and kvetching due to some double-whammy news I received yesterday. I was bemoaning the fact that much of my “disposable” (ha) income for the next few weeks will be going towards roof repair and my daughter’s wisdom teeth needing to be pulled.

Then my kvetching amplified.

My Boo-hoos:

I haven’t had time to write…work is so unrelentingly busy…my home is a mess…I am so unappreciated…I work out every day and no one notices…nobody likes me and I’m gonna go eat worms.

And no, smart asses, I am not PMSing right now.

After spilling my tale of woe to a good friend, she gave me some much needed chiding.

The roof repairs? Are BECAUSE I have a roof over my head. Taylor’s dental work? Is BECAUSE I have a beautiful, healthy daughter. My life is fine…and in fact it is actually very comfortable.

This brought me back from Planet Bitches-O-Lot.

My gripes are clearly of the ‘First World’ variety. (As opposed to the Third World kind – lack of clean water to drink, dubious shelter, not knowing where your meals will come from or even if they will come, fearing for your own life and the lives of your children…and so many other worries that thankfully are not part of my everyday reality.)

I look around me this evening. Husband obsessively finishing a puzzle. Daughter ‘allowing’ me to make her a quick dinner, which she consumes while watching her step-father and I triumphantly throw the last pieces of the puzzle into place.

We all have our health. We have an incredible, loving family and dear friends spreading wide on both sides of our nucleus.

I won’t remember having to fix the roof or pay for Tay’s dental work in 5 years time.

Inconsequential.

What I will recall in 5 years and what will stay with me are all of the other small things, the tangibles and intangibles of being blessed.

In other words I need to quitcherbitchen.

I promise will post about my emotional reunion with Taylor and our subsequent stay in a beautiful home on a Lake in Maine – I just had the moment of passion to write about my state of mind right now.

Being Annoyed & Teenage Werewolf

About a year ago, I read a really great book about parenting a teenaged daughter. My friend JP had recommended it, while we were perusing the shelves at our local Barnes & Noble, as she had seen some positive reviews about it. As the book was located in the Parenting section, I initially demurred. I am not typically one for anything that smacks of “self help.”

However, the subject matter was close to my bleeding, worn and ragged Mom-of-a-Teen heart and the premise was very interesting.

My Teenage Werewolf by Lauren Kessler is about her journey with her own pre-teen and teenage daughter. As writer with an anthropological focus and as a Mom with a vested interest, Lauren vividly details the rocky, desperate and loved filled trip.

Most amazingly (to me), in the name of research, she actually shadowed her daughter to school. She tagged behind her in the hallways of Middle School, catching snippets of conversation and sat in the backs of classrooms, a front row observer of the class and caste system of her daughter’s Middle School life.

I just found that to be so, so…cool. And brave. On both of their parts.

The book was extremely well written, kept my “I Don’t Like Books From the Parenting Section” attention easily, was thought provoking, relevant and made me tear up with it’s spot on authenticity.

After finishing the book, I looked online and found that the author, Lauren Kessler has a blog. Her daughter is a very occasional contributor. (Again, how cool!)

Because I am a geeky reader and favorite writers are my celebrities, I followed her blog. Sometimes I commented on it – and I was thrilled when Lauren responded.

A few weeks ago, I spent one Friday evening (much like this one) catching up on my favorite blogs. Lauren’s entry on her ‘My Teenage Werewolf’ caught my attention. The title was On Being Annoying and was a mini-rant about macro and micro irritations with her now older (but still a teen) daughter. At the close of her post she solicited comments from other Moms to tell tales of woe and annoyance.

So I did. Below is my comment:

Now that Taylor is almost 16, our ‘werewolf’ years have started to improve. 
Similar to the baptism by fire of entering them three years ago, I am now noticing that she is demonstrating occasional flashes of the (nicer) woman she will become. 
However, we are not out of the thicket of teenagedom yet, so here are my top three annoyances:


#3. Earbud(s) I am with you on those little cochlear implants. Only in my case, it is just one. Taylor likes to position one bud in her left ear…hidden by her hair. I, like you Lauren, listen to talk radio in the morning on the way to school. And I know that she does this (the one bud) specifically so that she can CHOOSE which information stream / music she prefers at any given moment. This includes selectively hearing her Mother’s voice.


#2. Recognition. I grew up as the first of 5 daughters. There were not a lot of extras for any one child. But as an only child, Taylor has traveled extensively. She has wanted for very little. She has an iPhone and wears trendy hypster attire. She is attending an exclusive camp in Maine. I have sacrificed and worked hard to ensure that she gets the best education, medical care and extracurricular activities. When she takes these things for granted…it makes me crazy.


#1. The bedroom wastebasket. I realize this can sound trite given numbers 2 and 3. But, bear with me. She has a wastebasket in her bedroom. She drinks soda in her room (which I have asked her not to do.) She chucks empty cans and paper plates into that wastebasket until it overflows…and apparently expects the trash can fairy to deal with it.
I keep up with the wastebaskets in every other room – I naively expected that she would routinely empty hers. Not so.
Last Tuesday found us having to eat dinner out…so we could bomb her room for all of the ants who had rightfully laid claim to her bedroom – given all of the empty soda cans and all!

It wasn’t until this evening, when I had the time to catch up on my blogs again that I realized that my little mini tome had been mentioned in Lauren’s most recent post entitled ‘More Annoying Stories.’ She referenced the previous post and her entreaties to the blogosphere to share stories. She shared the the entries she had received from other Moms, and had something special to say about my own contribution:

In the she’s a slob category, there were a number of vivid tales involving overly ripe gym socks, cosmetic encrusted wash cloths, Doritos-ed bed sheets and post-snack kitchens that looked post-tornado. However, my absolute favorite story in this category – one that put in perspective my own daughter’s horribly annoying habit of blanketing her room with wet towels – came from a mother who had to bug bomb her daughter’s room. The girl chucked empty soda cans and paper plates into her bedroom waste basket (It goes without saying, doesn’t it, that she isn’t supposed to have food in her room.? It also goes without say, but I’m saying it anyway, that she never empties the waster basket.) The room was overrun by ants…thus the aforementioned bug bomb.

At first, I was SO excited ! My comments were mentioned in a blog…a blog by a favorite writer! My initial enthusiasm about being mentioned was very quickly tempered…with the humbling realization that my story had been picked as a “best of the worst.”

***Sigh***

Oh well, so my kid is a slob…no news there. But apparently writing about it is blog-worthy.

Post Script: Cleaning out and re-arranging her room last weekend (which required multiple trash bags for the refuse I found under her bed) was an exercise in patience.

But - I still can’t wait to see her. (In 15 Days)

I have been away from my blog for a while. For the most part I have been very busy, having strategically scheduled a very activity-filled couple of weeks after my daughter’s departure for camp. Being busy did not eliminate the raw hole in my heart, but it certainly helped. The frenetic schedule kept me focused, task and results oriented, and gave me various reasons to get out of bed each morning, with a full agenda to accomplish.

Taylor left 2 Sundays ago, with two heavy bags (and my heavy heart) in her hands. The scene at 6 AM at Palm Beach International was not completely unlike the one the year before. The three of us sat together on a bench just outside of security and watched other campers and parents arrive. (Just as we had done the year previously.) We saw many familiar faces and some new. However, this time around both Taylor and I were imbued with a sense of confidence. We both knew the routine of separation. She was less nervous and more excited; I was less naïve and more prepared.

I hugged her very tightly to me, right before she was going through security and embarking on her 5 week summer adventure. Big fat tears rolled down my face as I felt my chest constrict in pain.








A few hours later Donnie and I met some friends in Fort Lauderdale for an outing on their boat. (As much as I was tempted to stay under the covers in bed, which is where I had retreated to after our early morning return from PBI.)

It was a lovely afternoon, balmy and sunny.







It was one of those days in beautiful South Florida that makes one exclaim (whilst standing on a sandbar and clutching a frosty adult beverage in one hand and catching a tossed football in the other), “We live in paradise!” We are blessed with a network of great friends and I was incredibly grateful for the chatter, the inclusion and the camaraderie.

48 hours later, I was Chicago-bound for a work conference. Actually, the conference was in a hotel that was right next to the O’Hare airport. So I was not actually in Chicago, the city.

The Data Reporting Workshop I attended may not sound sexy to a lot of people, but it really got my brainy / nerdy juices flowing. I got to spend quality time with people in my same line of work who came from some huge “name-drop-type” brand companies. We shared reporting techniques, best practices and of course the impact of Social Media and Social Response to our industry.







I did get in early enough the afternoon before the conference started to venture into the city via the train…an activity that I likely wouldn’t have done on my own. My co-worker and friend, JP, is an expansive person and a lover of life experiences. She easily convinced me that the day we arrived we should get into the city, see and do something important and have a slice of Chicago pizza. So we did. We went to the Sears Tower (now called Willis) where I tricked my brain into allowing my feet to step onto a glass platform 103 stories up. Later we went to an authentic Chicago Pizza joint. (Still too thick for my tastes, I prefer NYC style pizza.)

After coming back from Chicago, I was home only one night before leaving for a girl’s weekend in Key West.

As I have mentioned previously, Key West, for many reasons, holds my heart. I just feel at home down there. After numerous recent visits, I no longer feel as though I have to fit every one of the friends that I have down there, nor a bunch of activities, into a few day time frame – I know now, with certainty, that I am coming back. I just get to relax, touch base with familiar faces and places and revel in the peace that the Island brings me.

For this particular trip, I brought my aforementioned co-worker and bestie, JP and my sister, Michelle. Though Michelle and I are separated by 10 years (I am the first and she is the third of 5 sisters), we are extremely close. I felt very fortunate that she was able to take the time and accompany me down to my geographical heart on the Southernmost tip.








We “girls” sipped Mimosas during the day and good wine in the evenings. We guzzled good old H20 while riding our bikes for hours. We rid our bodies of any calories or toxins via the heat and exertion in sweat equity. We went on a somewhat touristy bike tour. I looked (as I always do) at available Real Estate.








We also got to spend a raucous (to us) Saturday evening with my good friend and writing coach, (who for the purposes of anonymity I will call “Tink”) having cocktails at the Porch and a delicious, healthy dinner at a new restaurant, Amigos.

All in all, it was a lovely, wonderful weekend and I was sad when it ended.

Upon my return to reality this week, I was able to dive back into my work, with only a few tear-inducing thoughts about my daughter disrupting my daily routine.

I have received one letter from Taylor and it sounds as though she is having the time of her life.

3 more weeks to go until we reunite. Before then, I am planning for Tink and her family to come up from Key West and visit us for the Fourth of July Weekend.

This weekend Donnie and I are going to Orlando to say Bon Voyage to my cousin and her family who are moving to San Diego.
After that, it will be time to start planning our trip to Maine to meet Taylor at camp and then spend a family vacation week on a lake in Maine. Our ‘Maine-iac’ friends and family will be joining us. We will celebrate a momentous birthday of one of Donnie’s sisters.

So, I am half way to the summit of “missing Taylor.” At any given moment, I wonder what she is doing and how she is doing.

That wondering is coupled with a strong sense of pride. She is stretching the legs of her independency, while I am finding out who I am besides being a Mom.

With those growing pains I am realizing that our future, while tethered together for just a few more years, is looking pretty bright.

I, she…both of us…just might make it through this.

Wish us luck.

Distraction

http://photos.parents.com/parents-cover-contest-2011/23/2011/70


I am TOTALLY stressing about Taylor leaving for Camp in a mere 31 hours.

However, one of the things that has distracted me and made me happy is seeing my friend’s baby son rise up in the ranks in a contest to be on the cover of Parents Magazine. This babe’s parents are Adem and Lauren. Adem was my sister Michelle’s boyfriend back in her Middle School days. He is an awesome guy – so our family has stayed in touch with him.

I had the pleasure of seeing him and meeting his lovely and witty wife, Lauren and their adorable son Rhys when they came down to So FL a couple of months ago.
Rhys is quite adorable and photogenic.

So it comes down to this shameless plug…please click on the link and vote for Rhys!

http://photos.parents.com/parents-cover-contest-2011/23/2011/70



Never fear, I will post about Taylor’s departure and my subsequent teariness after Sunday. My heart already hurts.

Prelude to Goodbye - Part Two

Last year when Taylor left for camp, I knew it would be challenging to be without her. I just didn’t realize how much it would hurt – nor how keenly the realization of her growing up and away from me would sting.

I pretty much melted down the Monday after she left last summer, while I was getting ready for work. Once I was at my (wonderful) place of employment that morning, I decided (given my puffy, swollen face and my inability to string a sentence together without dissolving into tears) that I would take refuge in an empty cubicle in another building (close to my core team, but far away from my cross-functional teams that I typically work with on a day-to-day basis.) One of my co-workers patiently spoke to me through the cubicle wall. “Are you okay?” she whispered. The only response I could muster on that day was, “I.Don’t.Wanna.Talk.”

My disposition did improve slightly over the ensuing days. I knew that my daughter was having fun, having new experiences, making friends from around the globe and gaining the all-too-important confidence necessary for navigating this life on her own.

A few weeks later, when Donnie and I flew to New York City to see my (our) daughter after her stay at camp, the week in Maine with family and friends and then the few days with one of my best friends in NYC, I could barely contain myself. I knew that my feeling was rightfully one sided…but I was still looking forward to being able to embrace her, to see her.

My Mommy (somewhat-worthy-of-therapist-couch) neuroses were apparent when Donnie and I exited the plane at the Airport. I started to sprint for a cab. Donnie had other ideas. He decided that he needed a coffee at an airport vendor. I stood beside him…tapping my foot and glaring at him. “Really?!?” I said, “Can’t you wait???” My subsequent reunion with my daughter was tearful. (on my part, of course)

I realized soon after that I would have to steel myself for the future.

And part of that future is now just a few days away.

Taylor loved camp so very much. And, was completely committed to going back for a longer stretch of time. Initially, I wanted her to work for it.

Then, after she got into the academic-heavy program at her High School, I told her I would pay…as long as she had all As and Bs. She met her academic requirements, even in the College course she has taken this year as a High School Freshman. So I paid (quite a price) for her to attend camp this summer for 5 weeks.

Now we are 14 days from her departing for camp in Maine. The camp is old-fashioned and eschews cell phones, computers and television. They encourage being outdoors, swimming, boating, archery and creativity. This is all lofty and good, but, I can’t talk to her during her stint at camp. I can send one way e-mails and she can send snail mail. And, I won’t see her. Nothing, nada from June 12th until July 15th.

As I have stated before, this feels like a dress rehearsal for the final flight from the nest. I believe that it is because of that knowledge that I have become somewhat clingy and a bit teary in recent days.

Where has the time gone?

It seems like only yesterday I was trying on the term ‘daughter’ and introducing the idea into my everyday life and lexicon.

I baked birthday cakes for her and decorated them. I spent long lovely evenings with her – when it was just the two of us – cooking or ordering takeout, watching movies and cuddling. I was there when she learned how to walk, speak, shop, swim, fish and negotiate. Ages 2 through 9 were dreamy and wonderful. Ages 10 through 14…notsomuch, but all part of the ride.

Through the past 16 years of our shared life, she has been there…traveling this journey with me. Now she is taking that first tentative step out of our safe nest practicing for the final flight.

As am I.

She’ll be back after 5 weeks. And I know that the next time she leaves, it’ll be for good.

While I feel bereft and oh-so-very-sad at the thought, I am also feeling my heart expand with pride. I know I have tried my damndest to be a really good Mom and I know that she is a great daughter. She is brave, (braver than I was) smart, (smarter than I am…but please don’t tell her) and incredibly empathetic. (Towards humans and animals alike.)

As certain as the tides change, she will continue to grow towards her future. I will continue to try my best to grow as a parent alongside of her.

There are just three more High School years…then I imagine, she is off to college.

I am quite sure that this will not be my last post about Tay leaving…but I would love to hear from others who have survived not only the tumultuous teens, but those who have also then been smacked, painfully, upside the head and heart with the reality of the soon-to-come empty nest.

From Margaritaville to Mosh Pits

The weekend of April 23rd was a busy and very musically enhanced one for us. I had the good fortune to attend two concerts, one on Saturday and one on Sunday. They couldn’t have been much more diametrically opposed.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Saturday’s concert was more of an all day event. Jimmy Buffett was making his annual sojourn to South Florida. I love Buffett’s music and have been a fan since I was introduced to it at seventeen, whilst boating and waterskiing on the South Florida Intercoastal Waterway.

Since then, his music and celebrity have been woven into the fabric and soundtrack of my adult life in various ways.

The actual concert didn’t begin until 8:00 PM but, Donnie and I arrived at 11:30 AM to help prepare for an event for my work. (The company I work for makes products under Buffett’s well-known brand.)



I was a only mildly surprised to see that some die-hard Parrotheads (the self-applied moniker of Jimmy’s most ardent fans) had already begun setting up for tailgating by that time. Yes, a full 8-½ hours prior to the show. These hardy folks would spend the entire afternoon in the sweltering South Florida sun, drinking, barbequing, and playing catch while listening to Buffett music.

This was after setting up intricate temporary homes consisting of tents, with generators to power blenders, portable grills, tables, chairs, coolers, food, drinks, outdoor fans – all of which were festooned with blow up colorful parrots, grass skirts and any other brightly colored accoutrements. And of course this was before they would file into the venue to drink some more and listen to the man himself.

Though I have attended several Buffett concerts and tailgates in the past, I was still impressed by the sight and the fortitude of its dedicated hard-core members.

When my work commitment was complete, we assisted in some clean up and headed home for a mid-day break. I just couldn’t entertain the idea of remaining out there in the relentless sun all day. Plus, we needed to let our poor dogs out for a potty break.

We returned to the venue a couple of hours later, with a friend and co-worker of mine who caught a ride with us as she had a ticket to the show, as well. Shockingly, we were able to reclaim our close parking space and rejoin a group who were all seeing the concert together. We ate, drank and chatted up friends in the relative comfort of a large festive tent complete with all of the amenities. As we did so, I thought (as I often do) how fortunate I am for so many things – a great company to be employed by and brilliant, engaging and likable friends, and a wonderful husband to share the experience and music with.



We enjoyed the subsequent concert wholly. Jimmy never fails to put on a good show. We had great seats, but his exuberant energy always creates such an intimacy with his audience, that every seat is a good one. It is a gift of performing that I have only witnessed in a few artists.

We left just as the final song was beginning in order to beat the crowds and were back home by 11:30 PM.

Sunday, April 24, 2011

The next day (which was Easter Sunday*** ) I was exhausted from the previous day’s activities. However, I knew I needed to gird my loins for another concert.

A couple of months ago, my fifteen year old daughter, Taylor had expressed quite a keen interest in a band called 30 Seconds to Mars. It is headed by lead singer Jared Leto, an actor known for his roles in movies such as Requiem for a Dream and Panic Room. When Taylor enthusiastically showed me the music videos featuring the band, I pointed out that the lead singer had been the heartthrob in the coming-of-age TV series My So Called Life, which had aired back in the ‘90s and which she and I had watched in its entirety when she was 13 via DVD.

Given this new information, she squinted at the computer monitor and proclaimed him “still hot.” And, even though he was sporting a pink Mohawk in his band’s video ‘Closer to the Edge.’ – I had to agree. Plus, the band’s music was very reminiscent to me, both lyrically and in sound to the band U2.

I was heartened to hear that she had expanded her musical palette beyond the “JB’s” (Jonas Brothers and Justin Bieber) that had until recently dominated her listening tastes.

So, excited by Taylor’s interest outside of bubble-gum pop and knowing that music is one of her biggest passions, I did a quick internet search to discover that 30 Seconds to Mars would be playing live in an Amphitheater right here in West Boca Raton on April 24th, Easter Sunday. I purchased 3 regular open seating tickets (foregoing the $300 Golden Tickets that included a meet and greet with the band) thinking that if she didn’t have a friend who would want to go, Donnie would accompany us. I was also a bit nervous that perhaps her interest in their music might be fleeting and wane in the coming weeks.

I needn’t have worried.

I presented the tickets to her a week prior to the concert, as an early “Easter basket” gift. She was even more surprised and gleeful than I could have imagined and immediately invited an equally happy friend to join us for the concert.

We arrived at the concert venue that Sunday afternoon a full 2 ½ hours prior to the 7:00 PM show time. I was unfamiliar with the amphitheater and hoped that we would have some time to mill about, find a good seat and take in the views.

However, what greeted us when we got there was just a line that had formed at the closed gates. Her friend arrived shortly thereafter to join us – thankfully with fortification in the form of McDonalds and soft drinks.



We sat (again in the hot unrelenting sun) for the better part of two hours. There were perhaps 50 people in line in front of us. And as the minutes of waiting ticked by, the line behind us extended into the hundreds.

I took in the people in line. There were quite a few Mother and Daughter pairs, a testament to Jared Leto’s generation-spanning appeal. There were plenty of unaccompanied pre-teens and older teenagers. Mixed in with the rest of the crowd there were also numerous (what Taylor would term as) “goth” looking individuals in the waiting queue who sported very unique hair styles and piercings.

This band certainly attracted quite a diverse assembly.

The gates of the venue finally opened. Taylor, her friend and I were able to secure a spot right in the middle, directly in the front of the stage. While I was delighted with our coveted spots, I grew increasingly uncomfortable as the growing crowd pressed in on us.




I am not one for close proximity to a lot of other people, especially strangers. I am fine on a bustling street in New York City or corralled in assigned seating at a theater. But put me in an unleashed, uncontrolled throng of humanity and you can witness my dissolve.

So, during the opening band (a great, new start up band by the name of CB7) I practiced deep Lamaze-like breathing and willed myself to just let go and enjoy. When CB7 finished, we thankfully were joined by another friend of Taylor’s, and her Mom and the Mom’s friend. (Why I was thankful will be explained momentarily.)

Once the headliner, 30 Seconds to Mars (30STM), took the stage and Jared Leto shouted to the crowd “take three big steps…forward” (when I thought that three steps back would have been advisable) the crowd of hundreds pushed forward insistently.





There was suddenly a shove from behind. I stumbled and quickly righted myself. The other Mothers and I looked indignantly at the offenders behind us. There was a group of young men directly behind us who were staring up at the stage, zombie-like and throwing their bodies in that general direction. I did shove back, and like the uncool Mom that I am, reminded them (in my shouty-loud voice) that there are children here, BE CAREFUL!

Like trees bending to the wind, the crowd of people around us started to sway in accordance with the force created by the fans. Being familiar with my personal limits and quirks, Taylor had warned me earlier (being more unexpectedly wise in this particular situation) that I may have to take leave. We had already decided upon a meeting place and that I would carry all purses or personal items if I should decide to flee.

Though I greatly wanted to stay put and enjoy the music from my ideal front-and-center spot, my neuroses won out. I grabbed Taylor’s arm and I am quite sure that the look on my face was one of horror. I fully expected that the same terror would be reflected in her features when she turned her head to look at me. Instead, what I saw on her face was pure glee. She was one with this scene. I asked for her backpack, which she handed to me gratefully. I then grabbed the arm of the Mother of the other friend of Taylor’s and gasped, “Are you staying here?” She was completely nonplussed by what was going around her (further solidifying that fact that I am the nutty one) and responded with enthusiasm, “YES!” I told her that I had to get out of the crowd. Both she and her friend looked at me with surprise that I would willingly give up my prime standing spot. They promised to watch Taylor and her friend, as I elbowed my way out.

I found a spot very close to the side of the stage where I had a great view of the band and could kind of see what was going on where my daughter and her friends were.





Only after the panic and adrenaline had lessened their course through my body, was I was able to process emotion and thought again.

I felt guilt – it began to consume me almost immediately, even though I had left Taylor and her friend with other Mothers. Where are they…OH, I see their hands…waving pumping fists..they must be okay, right?

And then, Holy shit – I am 41 years old and somehow unwittingly found myself on the sidelines of an almost mosh-pit. Aren’t I supposed to be too old for this?

A few moments later….it looks like fun! After all, when some of the enthusiastic fans migrated ever closer to the stage, I was immediately reminded of some of my younger days. I used to circle and dance around the edges of mosh-pits! I was there when the term was invented, dammit!

I was torn between my adult Mommy and my carefree youthful self.

I found a few other comrade Mothers who had chosen to watch the concert from our shared view point. I soon realized that my fear was (mostly) unwarranted. From where I was, I also got a close up view of the lead singer becoming enamored with a fan who was wheelchair-bound. Jared insisted that he be carried onto the stage in order to enjoy the experience up-close.

The other Moms I had huddled with on the sidelines were also fans of 30STM's music, they had young sons and daughters in the crowd in front of the stage and they had no personal desire to be a part of it. One woman, a photographer had met Jared Leto in person, another had taken her 17 year old daughter to see as many 30STM concerts as they could reasonably get to or afford, and another had not only her 13 and 15 year old children in that mass of humanity in front of the stage, but also two high school exchange students. (Who would certainly return to their respective homeland countries with a slightly skewed view of the USA.)

The girls returned to me after the last song, relatively unharmed and just simply vibrating with excitement and breathlessness. “Best concert EVER!” was their refrain while I dusted of my last vestiges of worry and concern. We purchased complementary t-shirts for them to wear to school the next day and went home.

The dichotomy of the two wildly different concerts hit me a couple of days later. I felt as though I had straddled some sort of musical, lyrical span between my youth and my adulthood, all in one 36 hour period.

From the guitar strumming soothing ‘Come Monday’ to the energetic beats of ‘Kings and Queens.’

I am simply amazed at how music can define a decade, evoke feelings, span generations and join people.
So tell me, how has music moved you? What are your memorable concerts? Does certain music make you feel like a certain season of yourself?




*** I am Christian and do recognize the sanctity of the day. He has risen, indeed.