Concert Diaries Chapter 31 ~ So Much Magic

It's the end of the Andy Grammer/Gavin DeGraw tour.  These bands outdid any previous performance I'd seen of them (and I've seen a lot).  I can't help but look back on the experiences of the last few months and relive some of the magic.

We (my PIC, Phyllis, and I) started calling October the magic month.  I often say I'm geographically blessed when it comes to concert attendance.  Northern New Jersey is less than an hour from New York, less than three hours from Philadelphia, five hours from Boston ... we can be anywhere in less than a day's drive.  Whomever booked the Andy Grammer/Gavin DeGraw tour scheduled so many shows within easy driving ... and we went to them all including some bonus magic at the end.

Why would I attend so many concerts by the same artist?  It's hard to explain.  If you know, you know.  For me, it's because he changed my life and when I'm in the same room as he, whether he's the opening act or headlining, I'm the most fully alive that I think I've ever been.  I feel things again.  I'm clear about myself.  I feel strong and confident and profoundly happy and all the stress of my "real" life tumbles away--not just for the hour of the show, but for days and weeks at a time.

And no, the shows aren't all the same.  There are always surprises, on and off the stage.  Because of the magic.

Even though October held the most magic, our story began in August with the opening night of the "DeGrammer" tour, in Bethel, New York.  The site of the original Woodstock Festival proved to be the perfect place to start the magic.  I was captivated by the Woodstock museum on the property and could have spent the entire day there remembering the music of that time and wondering at the extensive influence the event had for years after the festival.  I was haunted in a romantic way by the ghosts of the space we were in since I'm old enough remember Woodstock and the history of the place was not lost on me.


Both Gavin (born nearby) and Andy (raised nearby) had lots of stories and memories to share (or overshare).  They had lots of family and friends in attendance and the night felt very special with those ghosts and memories filling the air.  The set lists of both artists were a fan's dream come true and Gavin's inclusion of a short acoustic interlude was a perfect surprise.



Our next show was in Shelbeyville, Delaware on the Maryland border.  We had a relaxing drive down while listening to dreadful weather reports which, unfortunately were accurate.  After spending the night in Ocean City, we learned the outdoor concert was cancelled due to Hurricane Hermine.  We drove out of the area in high winds and rain but soon found ourselves under magical blue skies, looking forward to October.  Even a cancelled show can be part of the adventure, the memories, the magic.

Gavin and Andy donuts from Broad
 Street Dough Co. in Oakhurst

Reading came next, the first of the magic October shows.  We started this adventure by driving a couple hours out of our way to pick up donuts for the band.  Specially made to order, they were rather outrageous confections that I doubted our health conscious guys would indulge in but it was fun to deliver them.  We arrived in town, starving, and headed to the only place we knew of near the theatre, Mezcal's Restaurant. We'd been there for drinks the last time Gavin played in Reading.  Much to our surprise, when the waitress led us to a table right beside where members of Gavin's and Andy's bands were sitting.  I teased them about being in "our" restaurant and we chatted for a bit before turning to our menus.  We wished them an awesome show as they left.  We had a meet and greet with Gavin that night.  We climbed to the top of the old theater with my arthritis protesting each stair.  It was as thrilling to meet him again as it was the first time.  We had a lot of fun delivering the overloaded donuts and explaining that they were named for him and Andy.  We took several pictures and I could have talked for an hour.   The Reading show was truly fantastic.  It was our first show with Wrabel who was opening most of the nights on this tour.  He was lovely, talented, authentic and his songs were poetry.  Both Andy's and Gavin's sets were as exciting as they had been opening night.

Right after Reading, Phyllis received the email.  The magic email telling her that she'd won a trip to Las Vegas to see Gavin DeGraw in concert complete with a VIP meeting.  Even more magic for me when she invited me to go with her.  There were lots of details to be ironed out, paperwork she needed to complete and it would be a few days before the trip would be really confirmed.  We began to make plans.  Plans on top of the plans we already had.

A few days after the magic of Reading and prize-winning emails,

Kelly Ripa & Carrie Ann Inaba
greeting Andy after his
performance.

we took a sunrise train to New York.  It was a full day of fun with our bands.  We'd had tickets to The Kelly Show, betting that either Gavin or Andy would make an appearance, finding out later it would be Andy Grammer and his band on the show that day.  Gavin was appearing on the show in a second taping to be aired the next day.  We had to be up near Columbus Circle at the ABC studios before 7:30.  That was the first hour+ spent in lines that day.  The show was fun and Andy's performance was indicative of all his live performances--high energy, infectious and authentic.  Once the cameras were off, the infamous producer, Michael Gellman, said there were seats available for the next show.  Of course we ran around the side of the building and got in line and were ushered into the studio again.  Unfortunately, Gavin cancelled at the last minute and did not appear.  We didn't know it at the time, but he wasn't feeling well.  We would learn more about that in the days ahead.

The concert that night at the Hammerstein Ballroom was exciting.  The sold-out crowd was a little pushy and we weren't in the front row (second row fabulous that night) but the kind front row nurses (they were all nurses) that we became friends with made room for this arthritic older fan and I leaned on the barricade for the last half of the show.  Gavin surprised the crowd by added another new song from the latest album to the setlist:  You Make My Heart Sing Louder.  He told us it was his mom's favorite and dedicated his performance of it to her.  Her love beamed back at him from where she stood in the balcony.  Lots of our old friends were in attendance that night and we became fast friends with new people as well.  As I've mentioned many times in this space, this is one of the magical benefits of following this singer--the friends I've made ... both in person and in social media.  The concert that night was another beautiful example of the excitement and energy the filled the stage every night of this tour.

Thanking service men & women.

Wrabel

The next day I was off to Boston to visit my daughter in her new apartment and to show my mom where her granddaughter lives and works.  Knowing she wouldn't have two days off in a row, I bought a ticket to see the Boston stop of the tour.  In the ancient Orpheum Theater I had my second meet and greet, met Andy's bass player Zach Rudolph and saw my fourth show of the tour.  I saw lots of friends scattered around the room.  The old theatre's rows were tight and the seats held together with duct tape in some cases.  I wondered about all the artists who'd appeared there over the years.  My fourth row seat was as close as first row in some theaters.  One magical moment occurred when Andy Grammer snuck onto the stage where opener Stephen Wrabel was laying his whole heart as he always does.  He actually admonished the audience to be quiet for Stephen's last song, a beautiful new ballad destined for his next record.  Andy said he wanted to be able to hear a pin drop.  Thank you Andy!  It's hard to understand how and why people talk through the openers.  There were quite a few enlisted men and women and veterans in the audience that night.  An amazing authentic moment of these shows has been Gavin's recognizing of these men and women and thanking them publicly for their service.

The day after the Boston getaway, Phyllis arrived for what we had thought would be the rest of the October shows ... Sayreville and Morristown in New Jersey and finally, Philadelphia.

High energy from the Andy Grammer crew.

Front row for Gavin.

The Starland Ballroom is one of my least favorite venues, it's tight and people get pushy.  It was a general admission show so we arrived early.  Really early.  But we had parking pass tickets which meant we'd get in early, after the VIP ticket holders.  My favorite radio station, WPLJ, showed up with snacks for the fans in line.  I'd wound up with an extra ticket for the show (long story) so another concert friend of mine joined us and by some miracle, we wound up front row in front of bassist, James Cruz and drummer, Mike Baker.  We were enchanted with Wrabel once again.  Andy Grammer was amazing as always.  He invited each of his band members to take solos during "You Can Do This."  They, and we, were totally surprised.  By now I'd heard his new song (as yet unrecorded) enough times to remember a lot of the words.  It's a stunningly beautiful song about sharing your authentic self with the important people in your life ... all of yourself, not just the comfy, cozy parts.  It brings me to tears every time.

Post show.

Gavin delivered his usual heartfelt performance with funny stories.  One of the most magical moments of our night at Starland was the impromptu duet of Gavin and a friend of his from his early days when he performed in bars and clubs in New York.  John Breedlove joined him on stage and they sang Sam Cooke's A Change is Going to Come. It was a very special moment.   One of the truly unique things about Gavin is how willing he is to share the stage with other people.  His kindness and generosity are unfailing. He was genuinely thrilled to see his old friend and was enthusiastic in his introduction.  Later, in the parking lot, we had the opportunity to speak to John for a few moments.  He confirmed what we've always known:  that Gavin is as loving and loyal in real life as he comes across on stage.  After the show, he came down and greeted fans and took pictures.  More magic.

I was so looking forward to the Morristown show.  I grew up in Morristown and was excited for my favorite band to be in my favorite town in a theater where I watched movies in high school.  I will confess we could have slept in, taken it slow since it was a seated show and no early lining up was necessary but we actually went to town for lunch and spent time in the park (more properly, "The Green" if you're from these parts) as the day was really beautiful and we thought our favorite guys might be out and about.  They weren't and in fact, Gavin's bus was no where to be seen.  Andy Grammer tweeted that he'd hidden tickets somewhere outside the theater so since no one else was looking for them, we did.  Phyllis found them but our seats were better so she taped them back into the hiding place.  They were still there after the show.  Apparently no one in Morristown is on Twitter besides me.  That was the night we heard Gavin was ill with a really bad upper respiratory infection.  We watched as his bus pulled in without much time to spare.  Stephen Wrabel was out on the sidewalk doing Facebook Live.  We waited a few minutes and then struck up a conversation. It was nice to be able to tell him how much we enjoyed getting to know him and his music.  We took some pictures and then it was time to go inside.

Phyllis takes a selfie with Greg.

Our seats were in the 7th row, good but not great, on the guitar and keys side for a change.  That was also the night that hardly anyone stood and no one danced.  I wrote a separate story about that here.  That was the time that although I was in row 7, it felt like front row--a different sort of magic.  Between the sets, we spoke with Andy's guitarist, Greg Karas for a few minutes.  I asked him how they keep up the pace, with very few days off on this tour.  He replied, "we were born to do this."  I believe him.

A heartfelt hug for a blast from the past.

You'd never have known Gavin was ill (until the end of the show when he didn't perform his usual encores).  He was charming and energetic and sang his heart out as well as any other time I'd heard him.  At one point a woman approached the stage with her phone in the air.  I wondered where security was as she walked right up to the stage where he was telling a story.  It turned out she'd gone to summer camp with him when they were 11 years old.  They been at the same bus stop together all summer.  Big hugs ensued as we witnessed the mini reunion.  It was a magical moment.

The next day we were off to Philadelphia--early since we had to stand in line.  Despite the date (mid October), it was 80 degrees so the five hours we waited, chatting with the folks we were in line with were hot and steamy.  The Fillmore is a unique venue with rusty old gates out front and a very modern vibe inside. Somehow we got separated while we were checking in.  I wound up in the front row at the end of the stage but Phyllis and our friend, Rebecca, wound up towards the middle near the front.  I need that rail, especially after so many late nights, long lines and hours of dancing.  I could hear my knees protesting loudly.  We loved this show too.  It was fun to see looks of recognition from many of the guys in the band. After the show, when he came down to greet fans, Gavin asked me if I'd had a good time that night (of course!!) and I asked him how he was feeling.  He was still pretty sick, he said (actually he said "I feel like crap.")  Again, you'd never have known.  If it's possible to admire him more, I do.  Powering through those shows was probably difficult.  I have had some experience with respiratory infections.  I have no idea how he was singing through the pain of whatever was plaguing his lungs but he did.  (Later we'd learn he'd contracted walking pneumonia.  Towards the end of the tour he was so sick, he did have to cancel a couple of shows which must have been a very hard decision for him to make.)

Curtain call at the Fillmore.

The next day it was back to work in the hazy dream-like state of concert high.  Make that multiple concert highs.  We'd thought our adventure would end in Philadelphia but the best magic was yet to take place--in Las Vegas.  But that's a separate story.  If you're curious, you can read it here.

Our fall adventures were filled to the brim with our favorite music, chance meetings with some of our favorite artists, scheduled meetings with Gavin, renewing friendships and making new ones at every show with hugs and smiles and stories and photos.  I had filled my tank with the energy that only comes from these experiences and the magic that accompanies them.  Nearly a month later, the concert high lingers, the happiness permeates most every minute* and since there is another concert to come in December, there is more magic to come.

*the election results notwithstanding ...

Concert Diaries Chapter 29 ~ "I'm Sorry, I Can't"

Someone was tapping me on the shoulder.  I turned away from the stage, knowing full well what to expect.

"Could you please sit down?" she said.  She was older than me which was surprising because at a Gavin DeGraw concert, I'm often one of the older people in the room.  She was with her husband, a rather morose looking fellow who was clearly not having a good time.

This was the Morristown, New Jersey, stop of the Andy Grammer/Gavin DeGraw tour.  We were at MPAC--the Morristown Performing Arts Center (the former Community Theater when I was growing up here).  It was about 6 weeks into their tour and my 5th show thus far on the tour.  So you'd think I'd seen it all, heard it all and it wouldn't be as exciting, wouldn't you?  But you're wrong.  Every show is like a new show, even though their set lists don't change much.  Why I see Gavin as often as I  do is a story for another time, however.  Tonight, as I'm looking forward to my 7th show of this tour, I'm thinking about why I still can't sit.

She was clearly unhappy with me.  "I can't see," she said.  "Could you please sit down?"

"No," I said, "I'm sorry, but I can't. I just can't."

I'm sure she thought I meant I wouldn't sit down.  But I actually meant it the way I said it.  I was unable to sit down.

To be sure, we'd all been sitting for the lovely and talented opening act, Wrabel.  But his music is so introspective, quiet, in a way (not quiet-sounding; he delivers with passion), I understand why at seated theater shows, people remain seated during his set.  And unfortunately, as with most opening acts, the audience hasn't completely arrived yet (much to my amazement always).

But when the energetic, animated band that supports Andy Grammer hits the stage with their hard driving introduction in advance of his entrance, people leap to their feet.  They always do, everywhere I've been, any time I've seen him.  Not just on this particular tour.  But not in Morristown, though, on that night.  I slid to the edge of my seat, my legs itching to get me up.  I looked around.  There were two people in the front row standing.  They are huge Andy Grammer fans whom we'd run into several times in the last few weeks.  Seeing them, I slid farther to the edge.  A couple more people got up.  That was all the company I needed.  I was on my feet and involved with the dynamic show that was happening live with only 6 rows between them and me.

Why are they sitting?

I couldn't sit down.  Their energy is so infectious.  Andy and his band cover the stage.  They dance (as in choreographed, synchronized dancing).  They sing--boy, can they sing.  They all play multiple instruments.  It's as live as live music gets.  I could not understand why this audience wasn't on their feet.  They weren't even moving ... no hands clapping, no heads nodding.  I mean, if you're going to sit, at least show some signs of life!

Then Andy launched into one of his first hits, Keep Your Head Up,  And up they got.  Finally, I thought, they're up and we're all in this together.  But no; after that song, they were back in their seats.   There's a point in the show where Andy encourages everyone to dance along with him in a specific way.  He calls it a 2-step and he has a specific face that goes with it.  It's humorous and so much fun.  In Morristown when inviting everyone to dance he implored the audience, "Please try dancing with this song ... if you want, you can sit back down afterwards."  And once again, everyone got up.  And once again, at the end of the song everyone sat down.  Not me.  Not Phyllis.  Not the two girls in the front or the one girl over to the right.

Between Andy's and Gavin's sets, I looked around.  The woman and her husband were no one to be found.  They'd left.  I didn't feel badly as I truly was honest.  I was/am unable to sit during live music.  But it was also loud (loud is good, you know).  And her husband had truly looked miserable.  They couldn't have known Andy Grammer and Gavin DeGraw.  If they had, they'd have known it was going to be loud.  They must have thought they were coming to see Michael Buble or Harry Connick, Jr. (both of whom I like very much but they are more sit-and-clap performances, you know, politely).

I was thinking about the whole sitting phenomenon while the crews were clearing Andy's gear away and putting Gavin's in place.  There's a certain symbiosis that happens when you're in the presence of performers like Andy Grammer and Gavin DeGraw.  Or Train. Or Bruce.  Or any other high-energy performer you can name.  They're poring everything they have into every song, laying everything on that stage.  It's a gift and they hold nothing back.  I feel it wrapping around me like an invisible force.  I can't sit.  I won't sit.

Because, you see, it's a 2-way street.  They give us their energy.  And we give it all back.  Gavin will tell you he needs it (you can actually hear him say that on his live album).  It's as if for a couple of hours you're in a relationship with the people on the stage.  They are giving this gift of music (okay, I know it's not a gift because I've paid, sometimes dearly, to be there but you know what I mean) and we receive it and return it back in the form of participation and appreciation.  And this 2-way relationship builds throughout the night until audience and performers are in complete, well, harmony, and it feels as though the crowd and the musicians have united on some imaginary plane somewhere.  Andy calls it an emotional chiropractic experience.  You may have arrived with some aches and pains, probably in your soul, but you're leaving having been adjusted, in a haze of happiness.  And it flows both ways.  It's the best thing about experiencing live music.  You become a part of it.

When Gavin and his band took the stage, it was a repeat of the response to Andy's show.  People got to their feet for his big radio hits and sat during the rest of the performance.  Gavin had been really quite ill that day (to the point he didn't play his scheduled encore).  Not everyone would have known that; I think these bits of information probably don't get out beyond the circle of fans that pay attention to every social media cue.  I marveled at Gavin's energy despite his being sick.  I don't think anyone realized how ill he was.  He gave his usual 150% to the audience as did his band.  He, too, invited the people to dance if they felt so moved.  Apparently they did not.

Morristown is my home town.  I was thrilled beyond measure when the tour was announced and I saw Morristown on the schedule.  I couldn't wait to welcome these bands to my home.  We were lucky enough to actually run into Stephen Wrabel outside the theater before the show and had the opportunity to thank him for his music and they way he humbly shares his life with his audience.  But inside the theater, I was embarrassed at the lack of enthusiasm.  I felt let down by my home town.  They clearly didn't understand the open invitation to become immersed in the music and the energy.  And I didn't understand them.

Just to be clear, I've been asked to sit at a couple of other shows; I don't want to give my hometown a hard time.  But at those other shows, sitters were clearly in the minority and just had the misfortune to be seated behind me.

So if you're sitting behind me at one of these concerts, don't ask me to sit.  You already know the answer ... I'm not able to constrain myself.  And I'm sorry.

Sorry, not sorry, that is.






















Wrabel ... Check him out here.

Andy Grammer and bassist Zach Rudolph.  Energy.  See it here.

Gavin performing You Make My Heart Sing Louder from his new record, Something Worth Saving.

(Thanks to @MedicoMG for her awesome video. As always.)

Many Voices ~ One Sound

It was a small group but representative of our community.  Some young people.  Some older people.  Men and women and a few children.  From many walks of life.  Interesting folk who spent a weekend together to relax and pray and learn.  And sing.

Concert Diaries Chapter 21 ~ Lyle Lovett & John Hiatt

My favorite singer covers a beautiful song written by John Hiatt.  It's called Angel Eyes and it's about the most romantic song I've ever heard.  It's also been my introduction to the music of John Hiatt, a legendary singer-songwriter whom I'd never heard of before listening to Gavin DeGraw (again, you say? Yes, again; I've learned so much from his recommendations.)

MPAC before recent additions to
the front facade.

John Hiatt and Lyle Lovett appeared in an acoustic concert together at Morristown's Mayo Center for the Performing Arts.  This theater has an interesting history having started it's life in 1937 as a beautiful movie palace--you know, the kind with a balconey.*  It's where the first love of my life nearly twisted my arm off in high school.  We'd gone to see the Towering Inferno and he was studying architecture at the time.  (Shortly after that, I think I nearly yanked his off while watching Jaws.)   It's where I was stunned for days and impressed for the rest of my life by The Killing Fields.  After large movie houses could no longer compete with newer multiplex cinemas, it was boarded up and fell into disrepair for decades.  A group of dedicated citizens fought hard to reclaim the theater and reopen it for the local performing arts.   It is now, once again, an integral part of the community.

Two comfy chairs were set out on the stage with two guitars each at their sides.  Lyle and John took the stage together and traded songs and stories back and forth all evening long and occasionally joining in on one another's numbers.  It was like being invited to one of their homes and hanging out in the living room while two masters do what they do.  

I was unable to take notes as I normally do.  In this quiet, dark setting, note taking on my phone would have been unnecessarily disturbing to those around me.  I didn't take any pictures for the same reason.  I'm left, therefore, several days later with only impressions of a lovely evening that seemed to go by all too quickly.  Their obvious friendship and admiration for each other's talents provided the perfect backdrop to amazing guitar playing and each of their unique song stylings.  They each have voices that are not typical for singers and are formidable pickers.  I was mesmerized by the complexity of what they were able to do with those instruments.  Despite the fact that John Hiatt did not sing the song that I'd come to hear, it was a beautiful night of music in a space that holds many fond memories for me.

~~~~~

* The story of  Morristown's Community Theatre was chronicled by the late famed New Jersey historian John T. Cunningham in his book, The Miracle on South Street, published in 2000.  

• Angel Eyes by John Hiatt
• Angel Eyes was a huge hit for the Jeff Healey Band (Jeff Healey, a Canadian musician who died from cancer in 2008, was blind and played the guitar by laying it flat in his lap.)
• He doesn't sing this out on the road very often any more but I was in the audience for this acoustic performance and I'll never forget it.  Gavin DeGraw, Angel Eyes, Utica, NY, October, 2012 (Special thanks to Jen for capturing this moment.)

My Own Stars Hollow

When my daughter was in middle and early high school, our favorite television show was The Gilmore Girls on Tuesday nights.  It was the story of a single mom and her daughter and their relationship with each other and the others in their lives as the daughter, Rory, grew from middle school through college.  I loved the very cool Lorelai, the young, hip but oh-so-very-human and fallible single mom.  Even though I had my two kids married,  at twenty-something and thirty-something and she had hers as a single 16-year-old, I still related to all the pains and ultimate joys of single parenthood that she went through.  It's not always easy to make decisions without a partner and some days you just get tired of it--even the small ones like what to make for dinner.  Even though my kids still have a dad, he didn't factor into my day-to-day parenting equation and I wouldn't say that we really co-parented much.  Frankly, it was just easier that way.

But I digress ... because that's all water under the bridge, anyway.  One of my favorite parts of our weekly peek into the lives of Lorelai and Rory was the backdrop of their town, Stars Hollow, a fictitious but nonetheless historic town in Connecticut, complete with a town square (much like Morristown, the historic NJ town in which I grew up).

But I'm not writing about Morristown tonight either (although one day I will--it's also a beautiful place to live).  Rather, as I sit on my front porch watching fireworks burst overhead in the night sky, I'm once again conscious of how much in love I am with my beautiful small town of Denville, New Jersey.  I've written about this lovely place before* but I really ought not to broadcast how special it is--I should keep it a secret so it stays small and tightly knit, the way it is right now.

The fireworks are from our annual carnival, always held the last week in June to raise money for the all-volunteer fire department.  Lots of small towns in New Jersey do this and if you're a lover of small-time carnivals, you can follow them from town to town all summer long.  When I walk by the carnival on these June evenings and see the ferris wheel lighting the fairgrounds, it makes me think of Stars Hollow ... that tiny town where everyone knew everyone and they still governed themselves through town meetings.  I'm sure there's nothing particularly unique about my own little Star's Hollow.  You can see the same smiles across children's faces on any carousel that's twirling anywhere tonight ... I'm sure firefighters everywhere grill great cheeseburgers ... I'm sure guys everywhere leave their wives to put their kids on and off the rides and sneak off for a drink in the beer tent.  But it feels unique to me.  It's my ferris wheel and these are my kids, my carnival games and my firefighters selling 50/50 raffle tickets.

These are my cafes downtown where everyone sits outside in the summer and chats with anyone they know, whether well or remotely, in passing.  I have even grown to love the tacky Santa Fe-style tiled municipal planters that line our streets which someone mistakenly chose over something more appropriately colonial like galvanized steel or clay or concrete.  (Whomever is choosing and caring for  the plants in them, though, is doing an outstanding job.)

Everyone who works in my bank knows me, a big help in the hurricane aftermath.  My barrista at Starbucks (when I was still going to Starbucks--another casualty of the calorie cutback) had my drink ready before I got to the cash register and the same was true at my Dunkin Donuts.  The guys at my gas station have been looking after my car for so long they know what I need before I do (also a function of my total automotive ignorance).  We get personal service in the dress shops like you see in old movies (they bring you things to try and make really helpful suggestions).  When local people win the lottery, it's the talk of the town for months (this has happened three times in the last 15 years).  We have parades twice a year and will have fireworks again next week for the 4th of July.  Last Saturday was the annual Duck Races for charity.  Buy a rubber duck and launch it in the river.  They float to a certain point, etc.  I've never been since it started after my kids were too big for such simple pleasures but I'm sure something spectacularly fun happens at the end ...

Around the 4th there are more fun things to do ... steak dinner fundraisers, music and tricky trays ... we love to get together for good causes around here.  And again, I realize this isn't unique to us.  But I love that we're so willing to give and grateful that the community is so charitable as a whole.

The fireworks are over in my little Star's Hollow for tonight.  It truly is a Stars Hollow tonight for the sky is clear and brilliant with stars--real stars.  I'm hanging out with all the neighbors who walked into town for an unobstructed view rather than my tree filtered experience.  Middle aged folk like me and young couples with tired little ones and too-loud teens vying for each other's attention. Living downtown has the advantage of close houses which makes for close neighbors.  Our famous ice cream shop must have customers spilling out of the place clear onto the sidewalk; it's like that on a regular night in the summer let alone on a night when something special is going on.

Stars Hollow.  Cheers.  Oz.  Whatever metaphor works in your context ... everyone needs a special place.  I hope your hometown is that place for you.

~

*Summer Time On Main Street