September 10, 2016 — Okay, so today I had my last potato (a really good one stuffed with bar-b-que brisket) and the rest of the Toblerone dark chocolate candy bar from yesterday (it takes me two days to eat one of those), readying my brain to cut out carbs and get into shape. I’m backwards. Usually I’m in better shape in the winter, perhaps because I like winter sports, but who knows? I’ve decided to get into really good shape, like extra good, you know good enough to pull off a slightly too old Harley Quinn for Halloween, good? Well, we’ll see if I have the courage for that or not. Oh to be 20 again….

Then there’s the food distraction that is Facebook. Every day, my sister sends me some recipe. I’m not sure she knows what I eat, but nothing she sends would I eat. I really don’t eat badly, and I don’t eat complicated. It’s more just food because I have to eat, … sort of like sleeping. I like doing. I always have; eating, sleeping, those are just things that get in the way of doing. But in the middle of all of those recipes, oh and pictures of her children’s first day of school at private school, she posted a story to me, tagged me, or whatever it’s called, and not that this has anything to do with getting in shape, but it was a nice break from the recipes.

The story featured the picture here with headline “going to concerts regularly leads to a happier life.” The story, preceded by a small by-line reading “science says you need to get in the pit”, recounted the results of a 1,000-person survey done in Australia by Victoria’s Deakin University finding that those who attended any sort of musical experience – a concert or even a night out dancing – reported higher satisfaction with their lives. The study contrasted that to a finding of listening to music solo where the people reported being lonely. Personally, I think they go hand in hand, but what do I know? I wondered why my sister sent me this, or even how she came across it. Was this on some recipe forum? Is she trying to tell me something, like, does she want to go to one of my concerts? Or is she trying to tell me that going to concerts is now a good thing? Mind you, she doesn’t even know half my stories, but when we were young, she didn’t think much of concert people. I’m not even sure she knows about the concert I brought our mom to — our mom’s only concert.

The concert was Robert Plant, the Now and Zen tour, with Aerosmith and this new band, Guns ‘n’ Roses on the heels of the release of Appetite for Destruction, as the back-ups, Fall 1988. The concert was at a park in Dallas, grass seating on a hill. We brought a blanket, my mom in a cute outfit; she was like that, well dressed, pretty. Mind you, my mom was not a rock fan. I can’t tell you how many times she told me to turn the car radio down. Well except once or twice, she told me to turn it up to keep me awake on the 200 mile drive between Dallas and Austin where I went to college; gotta stay awake when one leaves at nine at night, she said as she would pack my cookies for the trip. We were girls (my mom stayed looking young forever, dark skin is good for that) in a sea of boys. Literally, there were guys everywhere, leaving us to the comfort of our blanket though. After a while, they realized the relation. Okay, seriously, guys always preferred my mom; I’m telling you, she didn’t age. I guarded her as they asked her if she liked Guns ‘n’ Roses. She did. You could tell she did. Somewhere in that conversation they learned she was my mom. The jealousy at that; over and over they repeated rhetorical questions. “Why can’t I have such a cool mom?” “You like this music, they asked her; that’s not fair?” Then there were the statements “I wish my mom would come to a concert with me.” So my mom did what she did best — hold court. It was her motherly thing… if the boys had such terrible moms who wouldn’t go to a rock concert with them, then she’;l make them feel like her sons too. All the guys were around us by then, interested half in the show, half in my mom’s reaction to the show. Who knew a mom at a rock concert would be so popular?

Guns ‘n’ Roses were tight then, very raw. I wish I could tell you the adjectives she used, but they were accurate, nothing bad either, just something respectful about their talent. Aerosmith. I remember her saying “I like him” – Steven Tyler, as he rocked back and forth with his scarves tied on the mic stand. As the sky became dark, Robert Plant took the stage. And he’s Robert Plant. I’m not sure my mom really grasped that he was the singer for Led Zeppelin, or even what Led Zeppelin was, but she had a strong reaction to him, like she was watching something really good, you know, …  like Elvis. By then, the guys were watching the concert, much less concerned about my mother, but I do remember her saying about Robert Plant “he’s good.” Her reaction was not provoked by me, and I remember nodding to her, an acknowledgement of her affirmation of good. My mom liked the concert. It made her happy. I was never sure if she had any lasting impression of it though, and certainly she didn’t go to concerts with the kind of regularity the study talks about. So my question: can one concert make a difference?. These things one never really knows. Or do they?

It was Christmas 2008, a bit more than twenty years after that concert, during my trip to Dallas when I saw my mother for the last time before she passed away. She had her clock radio playing. I was in the living room, and she came into that room, quickly for her health then, and asked me to follow her. She said this song was playing on the radio, her favorite, and she wanted me to see if I knew what it was. Mind you, in all my years, I never saw her act like that; my mother wasn’t one for such silliness as a favorite song. So when she said to me “hurry”, of course, I followed her down the long hall of her ranch house to her bedroom to hear the song pour out of her clock radio, literally the first time her silly listen-to-music-all-the-time daughter might be of any real help with such things. Mind you, I didn’t know what to expect, some pop song perhaps, maybe a country song. But when my mom stood there, her radio blaring out the sounds of Under My Thumb, and her expectant, childlike facial expression strong as she waited to see if I knew what it was, I felt like crying. I nodded. “Yes, I know the song”, I said, unable to hide my surprise. As straight as I could, I said, “it’s called Under My Thumb” and a pause, “by The Rolling Stones.” Mind you my mom knew of The Rolling Stones; she knew they were one of those rock bands.

Did my mom have any lasting impression, some impact of happiness from her one concert experience? Perhaps not. But I believe that concert stayed with her at least in some tiny way … because if you like Axl Rose, if you like Steven Tyler, if you like Robert Plant (and really didn’t she actually get three really huge legendary acts all bundled up into one concert experience), you’re gonna like Mick.

Her reaction, her words were the same as her reaction to Robert Plant. To my words “The Rolling Stones.” She simply said, “they’re good.” “Yes, Mama, they’re good.” I said.

Now back to my sister and her very different-than-recipes Facebook post. Perhaps she wants to post something other than recipes. And it really is simple, isn’t it? A concert for my sister, you know with one of those bands; I need to work on that. After all, I’m a doer.