When I was a kid we had a park within walking distance from my house where, throughout the summer there would periodically be concerts, magicians and other fun things for families. The summer before I entered 6th grade my mom worked nights and I was left home with my sister for a couple hours in the afternoon before my dad came home. Often, we would walk down to Memorial Park and see what was going on. To me, this was summer.
Last night Geoff and I got a little taste of summer. It was warm, but not too warm, and there was a nice breeze. We saw this street band performing (we actually know the guitarist wearing the hat) and stopped to listen.
I wasn’t 10 anymore, but that was alright. It was summer, and I loved it.
We sat in plastic lawn chairs and listened to the blues, while a little girl listened to her daddy play. Kids danced, adults danced, and most people just sat back and enjoyed the music. That’s what we did.
It was a small gig, and the band was paid a little money, but that wasn’t the point. One of the things I liked the most about this little concert was how much every musician enjoyed playing. You could tell that it was a passion for them, and it made me enjoy the music all the more because they were.
Ahh, to be a little kid again…