We have just returned from the Don McLean concert in Stamford. This is the last Alive at Five Concert for the summer. Bill and I had half a CostCo spinach salad each that we ate after we had settled in at Columbus Park.
I took a book and read for a while. Watched as people gathered. Families with young children, the young twenties bunch, teen agers, boomers, and then the sixties crowd, and older even. As time went on the young children became restless and began tossing around their freebie plastic balls and squealing and falling all over one another and their parents and anyone else nearby. I watched one ignored four year old pour Sprite and Heiniken from one can to another and then another and then drink the mix. A group of five or six twenty somethings were sitting around on the grass in a circle smoking gross, fat cigars. YUK!! Young couples, singles, parents became more animated in their conversation. And the decibels increased. Finally, it was a strain to even hear the music -- the beat, yes, but not the lyrics.
Too much noise and too many people. I began to feel a little panicky. And then AMERICAN PIE. This caught the attention of most of the crowd who sang the lyrics and gyrated to the beat. Bill said that we could go. And that was fine with me as long as it didn't take away anything from his enjoyment of the concert. Hey, he said, I listen to this stuff all day long (ITunes) I don't need to stay.
They were singing American Pie as we folded up our chairs, while we struggled our way through the crowd, and all the way down to the car. The walk to the car away from the loudness and the throng of so many bodies was calming. The drive home was further calming. Being home in the quiet is peaceful and wonderful.
11 hours ago
