The end to a Rite of Passage…

When I was a kid going to a concert was a rite of passage.  It was something you looked forward to until you could actually go by yourself.  When the day finally came and your parents actually dropped you off and told you where to be for the pickup, you were more excited about the prospect of going than for the actual concert itself.

Concert time

I remember it seemed like it took forever to convince my parents that going to a concert was a good idea and the convincing came from the unlikeliest of sources, my Mamaw.

We used to go to my Mamaw’s house every Friday and I remember sitting in her dining room and she was talking about a concert that she had been to.  She said that she had only ever loved two men in her whole life, my Papaw and Mel Tillis, and she said it while she was sporting a MMMMel Tillis concert T-shirt.

I used her story as leverage, not the lovin’ two men part but the going to a concert part, and it worked.  I told my parents that if my Mamaw could go to a concert then surely it was safe enough for me to go.  Of course back then about the worst thing my parents had to worry about was whether or not I would take drugs or leave with somebody, and they hoped they had brought me up to know better.   I didn’t always make the best decisions but I wasn’t stupid either.

brain freeze

I mostly stayed away from the hard stuff.

As I got older I started to prefer smaller shows and even now, when MacGyver and I occasionally go to a concert, we prefer intimate settings like small theaters over large arenas.  Maybe we’re just old.  If MacGyver’s hearing and my eyesight is any indication, well, we’re old.

dancing granny boss

I don’t care, I’m still a dancing granny boss, just maybe not yet a granny and I dance at home now, (mostly to avoid embarrassing the family).

MacGyver and I were watching the news last night and we saw the tragedy occurring in Manchester.  It was heartbreaking.  I thought about what those parents must be going through and it is gut wrenching.  These are not the concerts that I dreamed about when I was younger, that my kid dreamed of, and I’m sure it’s not what those children dreamt of either.  What is wrong with this world?   Why are people so broken?

This is not the same rite of passage anymore…..

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