My Happy Place

I got out last night. My mother called while I was making dinner and asked if I wanted to go see a big band concert with her and my grandpa. I didn't know if it would work, but my darling husband picked up the slack and I was off.
Something you should know about me: I love big band music. If I need a pick-me-up, a shot of instant happiness, I just turn on big band. The memories go back to childhood, listening to Big Band Saturday Night (our local big band radio show) and the feeling of euphoria that ensued. I'm not sure why, but I equate it with peace, contentment and the cool night air rustling my hair.
Sooo, needless to say I was excited. It was a Harry James band, directed by a delightful old charmer who played with Harry in his younger years. My younger brother, who loves big band and Jazz as much as I do, came along and I'm glad he did. We literally were the only people under 50 there. My mom must have been the third youngest; we sat on the back row and my vision was a sea of gray hair and stationary heads. When the band started, I couldn't help but tap my foot and bop my head; as I looked around I realized my brother and I were the only ones doing so.
As the curtain opened and the band filed onstage, I realized that not very often in our modern culture do we simply watch musicians play, especially without a singer. I thought that if I were one of these musicians, I would have felt uncomfortable with all these stationary heads just staring at me. Like I would have to do more to entertain them, a magic trick perhaps, or a jig. Needless to say, there were no jigs. It was delightful, sitting there in big band bliss.
And then she entered and brought me down. A singer, one that my brother and I decided was entirely too theatrical and not jazzy enough. I started to get silly, and a little bored. I was noticing little things that I found amusing, like one brass player standing up and playing loudly and a couple of guys who were in front of him turning around to look at him, as if he was too loud and showy. Both times the singer left the stage she pushed her breasts together and bowed very low. Seriously? The average age of your audience member is 75. There was giggling and whispering. At one point, I remember saying the words "naked dancing" to my mother, a little too loudly. We had fun.
It made me realize that we, as a society, are a little ADD. We need fast, easy entertainment. We are high-tech and instant gratification. I think we need to learn to wait, to enjoy, to watch, to think, to hypothesize, to invent, to be still.
I had a great night; I felt so cultured and mature (minus the naked dancing comments and the inappropriate laughter).