in which the Rambler takes in a concert

Herself

On Sunday night #1 Son Unit and I were guests of generous parishioners who had 2 extra tickets to hear Joan Baez in Prairie Metropolis's super state-of-the-acoustic-art concert hall.

We snatched an early light supper at a nearby pub and met them in the lobby -- in the process, greeting about half the membership of Most Holy & Undivided...

And it was lovely. We should all have such pipes at her age, or at any age. And she sang the Good Old Stuff. And Good New Stuff (hello there, Steve Earle!). And bantered with her band. And read excellent poetry about old women in the "Low-Low Impact Aerobics Class." And impersonated Bob Dylan. And told jokes intelligible only to "people in the prime of life" -- e.g., about standing next to the big black and white dog, singing into the morning-glory horn...

Question of the evening: why is it that I can feel so much more left-wing-militant in the dark, in a crowd, with musical accompaniment, than I can by daylight, solo, "a cappella"? I asked myself, on the third chorus of "Joe Hill..."

It was exhilarating.

Give a listen to Steve Earle's "God is God," 'kay? Four stars.