I’ve reached a magic age. This age is different for everyone if they make it here at all. It’s the age where I no longer feel the need to defend my choices. Where I live, whom I live with, what I do to earn (or not earn) an income, how I spend my time…it’s all mine.
I was thinking about this the other night as I watched a boisterous Irish-rock concert from the balcony. It wasn’t long ago that I would be one of the masses in the general standing area in front of the stage hurling myself around, instigating reverie.
The Flogging Molly show was at once a throwback and a novel experience. Irreverence, youth, noise, escapism…all decent rock concerts have these ingredients and this one didn’t disappoint.
I used to see these shows in one-dimension, a player up close, integral. But the view from the balcony, where I sat the other night allowed me to see all the players at once; The seven piece band and it’s spell-binding maestro, the young kids on the floor below throwing themselves into each other happily, merrily, joyfully, the beefy bouncers deftly catching young men who appeared to float on fingertips to the edge of the stage, tossing them back into the fray with practiced hands. Even the bartenders and sound men were in my sights. Each of them in their own way a huge influence on the evening.
I was omniscient, a narrator all-knowing, all-seeing. I enjoyed myself as much as I had if I were in the first person, down on the floor, sweating and screaming and loving being 18. But I’m not 18. I’ll be 50 this calendar year, and if omniscience comes with my magic age, all the better for me.
What’s your view like?