Date

Tuesday night we went out to a concert, with tickets and everything. It was at a little theater in one of the nearby suburbs, one whose lineup consists of an oddball collection of acts you'd love to see and acts that you just scratch your head about and hope they get enough at the box office to pay the staff. The last time we were there was to see Sweet Honey, 6 years ago. Well, 6 1/2. It was our first significant date--actually, it was while we were still stealth-dating and was only openly acknowledged to be a date retroactively--and I got A. royally pissed off at me because I was being a patronizing jerk and, well, things unrolled from there.

Tuesday's concert was significant for two reasons. One, we managed, by the skin of our teeth, to procure a babysitter (thanks Mom and Jenny for being so generous in the babysitter hunt!). Two, it was Pink Martini, a band I wouldn't have found if it didn't have its origins in my college dorm, but which is often in the cd player on long car trips. The band leader is someone who described himself in college as a blond Asian fag, which is still correct. He plays piano, and the band we saw last night had 14 people on stage. 14! A six-person string section, 2 people on horns, 5 on percussion, including the singer. The singer was also in our dorm, though I scarcely knew her--I wasn't cool enough, for sure--but the combination of those two musicians was already impressive back then.

We had great seats and we don't go out to live music that often, not nearly as much as I used to, so I felt a little the way I do when I take my TV-insulated brain and expose it to the screen. There was so much coming at me. And these guys have been playing together for ten years or more, so some of the songs just rolled out of them like breathing. Bolero, the opening number, just sucked me right in.

Coming so soon after seeing Helen's films at her memorial, it underlined how much the people I was living with back then had the courage of their talent and have taken risks on careers in art that, I hope, are paying off. I didn't have that kind of courage, but I'm thrilled to applaud from the sidelines.

I also owe Susan an earworm--so click on over to hear what's been in my head for two days.