Blog This!

Okay. So this is my hobby. Writing infantile forays. Guilty as charged. I admit it. The Pond is my escape from the "real" world. Maybe that's why yours truly has always had a thing for celebrities/movies/etc. that are "larger than life." Explains my affinity for Bond, James Bond. The early versions only-the rest stink. Sorry Roger, Pierce, and all of the others.

And my love for science fiction as evidenced by the old classics from yesteryear. The last "Aliens" movie had so much computer-generated special effects, making it cartoonish and not scary et all. Give me an old black and white sci-fi flick from back in the day, and I'm good to go.

We will switch gears here and recount the family's magical mystery tour-minus Katlin, unfortunately-to see Kitty's idol, Bob Dylan, in Birmingham, Alabama.

We loaded up old Betsy with chips and cokes to make our long drive a bit more pleasurable, and Charlie Jr.. being a "pepper," brought a 6 pack of the cherry-tasting cola. We were soon "on the road again," courtesy of the red-headed stranger, who just happened to be on the bill as well. Charlie Jr. manned the wheel so he could gain more experience driving on the hi-ways and bi-ways of the Interstates. I sat in the passenger side and had a few anxious moments, but for the most part, Charlie done good.

The concert was at Hoover Stadium, home to the Barons, a minor league baseball team, and whose parent club is the Chicago White Sox. As we made our way in-with limited waiting-the large stage was planted firmly around the shortstop area of the field.

Me and the Clan-minus Katlin-ordered a few hot dogs with sauerkraut and nachos. Can you say jalapenos? And waited for the concert to begin.

I went and had a smoke in the quarantined area for lepers located in right field. Because I was lighterless, I engaged the services of an old hippy who graciously offered me a "flick of his bic." He had long thin hair tied in a rubber band which barely reached shoulder length. He wore a wide-brimmed black hat, reminiscent of the flower power days of the 60's. His face was drawn and told his age.

"I'm 53," he said. "Man, from 1969 to 1975 I had a great time. Those were the days!" he continued with a condensed version of his life story.

I asked him who he liked better, Willie or Bob?

"Apples and oranges," was all he said. "Like comparing Led Zeppelin to uh, er, uh, to Santana." It took him awhile to complete the analogy. I also learned that he is a "baseball engineer" and is in charge of housekeeping at the stadium.

We finished our smokes and it was time for me to rejoin Kitty and Charlie Jr. I had on a "Fab 4" t-shirt and was soon met by a "deadhead," a pixieish sort of fellow who must have stared at the sun one too many times.

"The four apostles," he said pointing to my shirt and mentioning something about them "leading us up to the steps of heaven." He then made a reference to "the dead" as following close behind the procession. Another old flower child whose mind had shirley been chemically-enhanced or altered many years ago in a galaxy far far away. I later saw him dancing by himself and dancing with passersby. He had more moves than John Travolta in his prime. But he was enjoying the concert as much as anyone and Jerry Garcia would have been proud.

We finally arrived upon the bewitching hour [ 6:30 cst ] and "The Green Cards," 3 Aussies and a Brit, got the show on the road. 3 guys and a gal. Sort of an electric folk-country band, complete with fiddle. They were quite good and me and kitty want to buy their new cd.

When they finished we had the momentary pregnant pause, as the "roadies" began setting-up for Willie. Kitty assured me he would close the show with "Whiskey River." Wrong! His first song was the aforementioned classic. "Crazy," the old Patsy Cline song written by Willie, was my favorite tune. And it made me want to watch "Sweet Dreams" again, a biography of her life. Which starred Jessica Lange and Ed Harris.

I was disappointed with Willie's rendition of "On the Road Again," but he's probably warbled the song a million times and just doesn't have the zest for it anymore. The bbq man insists that the red headed stranger has recently recorded a follow-up sequel aptly entitled "On the Commode Again" for his aging fan base.

Willie left to a round of applause but no encore. The headliner was to follow, Bob Zimmerman. And we were waiting-me in particular-with baited breath.

Our seats were in the stands although there were hundreds of folks in front of the stage. Although we could see okay, we wanted to get on the field. Charlie Jr. had tried to bribe the attendants that allowed you on the field but was rebuffed each time. At first base and third base. After Willie's set Charlie jumped over the railing and was gone. And saved his twenty dollars. I was game but not Kitty.

It was time for Bob, and me and Kitty were content on watching from far away. Bob played organ and had a backup band to play the guitars and bass and drums. They were excellent musicians while Bob did his thing. Even tho I couldn't identify any of the songs, the music was awesome.

Soon people were leaving from the field. Maybe because it was late. Maybe because Bob wasn't singing the old songs. So I ventured over to a couple who gave me their ticket stubs. We made our way past security and ambled closely to the front of the stage. Row 20 perhaps. It was great. A lot of young people, immersed in beer and wine, were dancing. It was a happening. And to be close to the stage is the best seat in the house.

Bob closed the show and returned to do "Like a Rolling Stone." Kitty was engaged as was I. Bob and the boys met in center stage, absorbing the thunderous applause and soon retreated to their digs. The lights came on so we knew it was over.

I drove back to the Pond since it was dark and the roads in sweet home Alabama ain't the greatest. Charlie fell asleep and me and Kitty talked on the way home finally arriving around 3 ish.

Our magical mystery tour was over and it was a blast. We got to see Willie and Bob, two members of the "larger than life" fraternity. Another charter member will be in town in the fall. [ Paul Mac ] Will we see Bob again? The answer, my friend, is blowin' in the wind.

Gimme shelter, v.c.