From Hair Bands to Headbands: My Civilized Concert Era

It has been an interesting few days, to say the least. But I did manage a little escape for a change of scenery, which included something I hadn’t done in a long time: going to see one of my favorite bands. And when I say favorite, I mean probably my favorite, because, let’s be honest, at this stage of life I’m not sure we’re allowed to have just one. Everything has an asterisk now.

Here’s the thing, I’ve been to plenty of concerts in recent years, mostly tagging along to shows I didn’t actually pick. And sure, I’ve had fun... local bands, community events, the usual “on the reg” entertainment. But this time? This was my pick. My music. My thing. And let me tell you, the hype was real. Add to that a beautiful fall Friday evening in Charleston with clear skies, a light breeze coming off the water and it was just pretty close to perfect.

But then I started people-watching (because that is what I do), and y’all…I was shook. Literally shook.

Let me just preface this by saying I don’t know how much of this was the “Charleston Effect” which if you don't know is that mystical Lowcountry magic that makes everything look prettier, smell better, and feel like it belongs in a Nancy Meyers movie even in a sold-out stadium. But everyone at this concert was stunning. Like, effortlessly stylish. Tasteful. Polished. Think: breezy linen dresses, cool sneakers, understated jewelry.

Meanwhile, flash back to my concert-going years? We wore less clothing, more makeup, and had twice the hair. Teased bangs that could block a view from the mezzanine. And hydration? Please. The only liquid available then was beer in a plastic cup, and water bottles weren’t even a thing. Speaking of options, can we talk about the FOOD situation, that was there was even a food situation? At this concert, there were vendors serving real food! Food that made me wish I had waited to eat there. Back in my day, it was nothing but lukewarm beer and a $25 t-shirt. 

And the civility! There was no smoking, no vaping, no clouds of “mystery smoke” floating through the crowd. People were polite. Respectful. Practically ready to write thank-you notes to the band on Crane stationery.

The contrast was jarring. Back then, we were savages. Literal beasts with Aqua Net. And here I was, sipping a water bottle (without a lid, because you aren't allowed the lid???)  under lights with the nicest people who looked like they were auditioning for a J.Crew catalog...and we talked to each other through the entire concert.  Did I mention I could actually hear fine after?  Back in the day...after a concert, I was still praying days later that my hearing would return.  

Embarrassed for my younger self? Maybe just a smidge. But on the bright side, I think I left that concert with at least eight new couples to add to my Christmas card list.

Who knew rock and roll could be so…gracious?

Happy Birthday Baby Boy!

 

Birthdays are funny things when your children are grown. They still carry the same joy and wonder they did when our little ones were blowing out candles over a mess of frosting, but they also bring a quiet feeling that I can't quite name...an awareness of  how quickly the years slip through our fingers.

Today, my baby boy celebrates another year of life. And while I am endlessly proud of the man he is becoming, my heart can’t help but drift back to the days when his hands were small enough to wrap around just one of my fingers, when his laughter filled the house in that carefree, boyish way that only childhood allows.

There is such sweetness in watching him grow into himself...seeing his confidence, his choices, and his passions take shape. But there is also a pang of longing for the days that feel like they ended too soon: the ball games, the school mornings, the nights he wanted to talk for hours starting at 11:00 PM.

That’s the bittersweet truth of motherhood. We raise our children to be independent, strong, and capable, yet we can’t help but miss the days when they needed us for everything. A birthday, especially, is a reminder of both, the celebration of who they are now and the memory of who they once were.

So today, I celebrate my son with all the love and pride my heart can hold. I also quietly honor the little baby who made his depute today, all those years ago, who still lives in every smile, every hug, and every memory.

Happy birthday, my baby boy. No matter how many years pass, you’ll always carry that title with me.