From backpacks to Burberry

My parents are in town. They come to visit us a few times a year and generally get roped into helping fix something or other on our house. Or, for those of you who have seen it, creating a masterful garden that nearly grows and prunes itself, merely creating the illusion that you yourself are doing anything to help it. (This garden is no joke: it even blooms at seemingly preset times during the summer so there are no weeks without some kind of new flower) But this trip was planned so they could see a concert in Boston. My parents adore a group called Hesperion XXI. The last time I heard this group it was during a movie called Tous les matins du monde, which was set sometime in the 17th century. Needless to say, I was happy to drive them to Boston, then find a place to sit and get a drink while they went to the concert.

After several generous offers, however, Tracy and I decided to give it a try. It could not have been a better decision. The concert was phenomenal. The instruments were interesting, the vocals were superb, and the crowd LOVED it. Which brings me to the explanation of this entry's title. There were hundreds of people crammed into the Jesuit Urban Center on a Friday night. It was bitterly cold and windy. And yet, there were an amazing assortment of types of people excitedly running for their seats. There were people with cloth backpacks that I swear had hand-sown patches on them, people with coke-bottle glasses, people with more hair on their face than I have on my head (and that's saying something), people speaking several different languages that resemble Spanish, and people with Burberry scarves and long expensive black coats that were dropped off in front by a limo. It was a truly amazing sight.

The music was grouped into four-song packets, and the audience could barely contain themselves between them. There is something very inspiring about being in a place where there are nearly a thousand people sitting on the edges of their seats and begging to be given a chance to applaud.

Also, note to self: don't knock new (well, old) music til you've tried it.