Over my many years of going to Wolf Trap and sitting on the lawn it has never rained. Yes, there were times, when I had more money or fewer people, when I sat inside in the expensive seats and listened to the pouring rain and clapping thunder and felt sympathy for those on the lawn. But it never rained on me. It was fitting that this time it should rain. It was also fitting that five minutes before the concert began a rainbow appeared over the building with the now lit but vacant stage in its center. Peter and Noel with their wonderful sense of humor opened with “Weave Me the Sunshine” and amazingly the rain began to slow. By the time they were into the third song it stopped completely.
Peter and Noel put on a wonderful performance but it seemed short and more melancholy than uplifting. Of course it was. There was a huge voice missing. And when Noel introduced “Blowing in the Wind” he spoke of Mary as a voice that will be sorely missed. Not “is”, as in today, but “will be”, as in no more. For several years I have convinced my husband to buy plane tickets to fly 750 miles to Virginia for a weekend and in one case drive four hours to Fort Myers because, “this could be the last time”. I realized with those words that this probably really was “the last time.” Maybe not the last time for all three to sing together but the last time for Wolf Trap in August.
It meant a lot to me to have my daughter, her fiancée, and the grandchildren there. The two year old will not remember it and the highlight of the evening for the four year old will most likely be the pedestrian tunnel and the ride on the shuttle from the parking lot when we went back to the car to get umbrellas. But I will remember sitting with my grandson on my lap and smelling his damp hair while listening to “Don’t Laugh at Me” and seeing my granddaughter fall asleep in my daughter’s arms. I reminisced with my daughter, pointing out to her fiancée the seats where we sat when I brought her to her first concert at seven. And the two front row seats that we magically got one year.
Usually I sing along with gusto, feeling pride that I know all the words to even the most obscure songs. This time I spent a lot of time just listening, burning the scene and sound into my memory.
In Fort Myers I got a chance to meet them. My husband convinced me to wait for them to exit and get their autographs. I was able to say only one thing to each of them – “you raised me”. I wish I could have said so much more. How from the first song I ever learned by heart – “Freight Train”, to the songs I played on guitar in Girl Scouts, to the songs I still sing in my car today their music has weaved through my life and changed me for the better.
Peter and Noel put on a wonderful performance but it seemed short and more melancholy than uplifting. Of course it was. There was a huge voice missing. And when Noel introduced “Blowing in the Wind” he spoke of Mary as a voice that will be sorely missed. Not “is”, as in today, but “will be”, as in no more. For several years I have convinced my husband to buy plane tickets to fly 750 miles to Virginia for a weekend and in one case drive four hours to Fort Myers because, “this could be the last time”. I realized with those words that this probably really was “the last time.” Maybe not the last time for all three to sing together but the last time for Wolf Trap in August.
It meant a lot to me to have my daughter, her fiancée, and the grandchildren there. The two year old will not remember it and the highlight of the evening for the four year old will most likely be the pedestrian tunnel and the ride on the shuttle from the parking lot when we went back to the car to get umbrellas. But I will remember sitting with my grandson on my lap and smelling his damp hair while listening to “Don’t Laugh at Me” and seeing my granddaughter fall asleep in my daughter’s arms. I reminisced with my daughter, pointing out to her fiancée the seats where we sat when I brought her to her first concert at seven. And the two front row seats that we magically got one year.
Usually I sing along with gusto, feeling pride that I know all the words to even the most obscure songs. This time I spent a lot of time just listening, burning the scene and sound into my memory.
In Fort Myers I got a chance to meet them. My husband convinced me to wait for them to exit and get their autographs. I was able to say only one thing to each of them – “you raised me”. I wish I could have said so much more. How from the first song I ever learned by heart – “Freight Train”, to the songs I played on guitar in Girl Scouts, to the songs I still sing in my car today their music has weaved through my life and changed me for the better.
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http://iglesiadescalza.blogspot.com/2009/08/no-more-peter-paul-and-mary.html
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