Girls’ Night Out
By Lucky Tomaszek
I think I’ve mentioned before that I love the Indigo Girls. L-o-v-e them. Can’t quite get enough, actually. As a result, their music plays in our house on an almost daily basis. I have all of their CDs, as well as a bunch of live stuff that I’ve downloaded (legally). I cook to the Girls, I clean to them, I read to them, I write to them. It’s the background music of my life.
My children share my love of the Girls, but probably because it’s the music they’re familiar with. Just as I know and love every word to the Jesus Christ Superstar soundtrack and all the songs on Buffy Saint Marie’s Great Hits because my mom played those two albums almost endless for years.
I’ve seen the Girls perform live about 10 times. I try to make the show every time they’re in the area, and every time I come away from the concert feeling all full of love and other good stuff.
Well … OK.Back in 2003, my oldest daughter Lena (then seven years old) asked if she could join me for a show. I hemmed and hawed about it. Was a concert at the Riverside appropriate for a seven year-old? Would she talk through it? Did I want to give up one of my rare chances for a kid-free evening? In the end, we ended-up with an extra ticket and I decided to give it a shot. I have good kids; they’re well-behaved and have a deep appreciation for music.
The night of the show was freezing, with wind whipping up Wisconsin Avenue and burning our fingers and cheeks as we walked the four blocks from our car. Lena trudged along cheerfully next to us, not even complaining about the cold as much as we grown-ups. When we got inside and went to find our seats, there was the unmistakable stench of vomit. Someone had thrown up in the aisle we had to walk down. Lena picked her way around it, with just one question. “Mama? Does that happen at a lot of concerts?”
Our seats were excellent, 5th row, Emily side (meaning we were to the right of the center of the stage). Lena was glad that we were on “Emily side” because Emily’s her favorite. We sat and chatted ‘til the lights went down and then Lena took my hand in a precious squeeze of excitement. The stage lights came up and the music started. My daughter looked at me, confused. “I don’t know this song Mama.” Oh, right! The opening act. Lena paid good attention to them and clapped appropriately, even though she confided in me later that she was just trying hard to be polite.
And the crowd goes wild.When the Girls finally took the stage, the crowd got up on its feet and danced through the first two numbers. Lena stood on my seat with my arm safely around her waist so she could see and danced right along. She sang when it was time to sing and she sat quietly holding my hand when it was time for that. Every couple of songs, she’d look over at me, full of wonder and say, “This is so much fun, Mama. Thank you so much.”
Lena made it through about two-thirds of the show before her little body said “Enough!” Then she curled up in her seat, covered in winter coats, and fell peacefully asleep. The concert-goers around us marveled to me about how wonderful she’d been all night and how beautiful she was sleeping there just a few yards from the stage.
The concert ended with an encore and thunderous applause – Lena slept through both. We bundled her and ourselves back up and I carried her out of the theater into that bitter cold night, then hustled back up to the car. She didn’t wake until I got her home and into her own bed. As I pulled the blanket up around her, she rolled over and smiled at me. “Mama? Can I go with you next time? That was wonderful!” And then she drifted back to sleep. VS
