Rock Concert

Before our daughter was born I would often take the boy in his stroller, then three years old, and the dog for a weekend morning walk to the nearby park. This one specific morning there was a crew setting up an extensive arrangement of temporary chain link fencing. Something major was underway.


9/12/2004

“What’s going on,” I asked a guy.

“George Thoroughgood is playing today,” he replied. Thoroughgood. That’s a rock band. A decade or so beyond their prime, but still, playing here? At the park?

“They’re opening for Blue Oyster Cult,” he continued.

With that my attention was fully piqued! BOC, for those of us in the know, was a favorite rock band of my brothers back in the ‘80s. Having been fortunately furnished with this chance information, my day’s plans were to be altered.

I had a few chores to do, but my boy and I were going to see BOC live! He was excited when I proposed that we come back for a picnic lunch to watch a rock concert. I liked his enthusiasm. Although I venture to say he didn’t really grasp what ‘rock concert’ meant.

Returning home I had to hustle around to complete the yard chores before we went. It was getting close to start time when I had just finished. Stepping into the house I was expecting to have to quickly make sandwiches and pack a lunch. But I was instead greeted by a smiling Wife Klem who had packed lunch for me and the boy and offered to drop us off near the park. How lucky am I? Thanks, Wife Klem.

“Are you ready?! On your feet, or your knees, for the amazing . . . Blue Oyster Cult!!” blared through the sound system as we entered the park. The big ‘80’s rock band had just taken the stage. We navigated around the paying customer seating and luncheoned 50 yards to the left of the stage beyond the metal chain link temporary perimeter fence under a tree on a grassy knoll. Sandwiches in hand, along with binoculars, we took in the scene. Good view of the stage, beach balls bouncing among the crowd, and the money-paying spectators, of which we were not. A $25 ticket price secured them a patch of grass in the sun within their fenced-in confines.

The event was hosted by Harley Davidson. This would be readily attested by the amusingly rugged contingent of Harley gear-wearing folks in attendance, in addition to the numerous limping personnel and various other physical observations seemingly resultant of a hard living.

We stayed for an hour. He had fun, but I sensed that he had his fill when he started to ask after every song, “It’s over, Daddy?”

We got home, put the guy down for his nap. The next day his sister would be born.
-klem