The intrepid travelers of 92128 recently travelled by train to Los Angeles to see a legend at the Hollywood Bowl. The trek was organized by three women in The Gang of Eight and at least one of the men stepped up to take the role of trip leader. Two other men went along for the ride. Thus, the shortened Gang of Six made their way to LA LA Land to hear the incomparable Van Morrison at one of the world’s great venues.
The trip North was marked by discussions that ranged from the efficacy of various GPS apps to where the soul goes after death…typical range for our group…from the sublime to the ridiculous. As the California coast went by our window we postured and postulated.
Upon arrival in the city we segued to the LA Metro under the guidance of our guide who knew the subway system and in a very few minutes we were vomited into Hollyweird and its multiple scenes. Asian tourists, street people, minor celebrities, wannabes and others teemed in the glitter jungle. A feast for the eyes as we trudged to the AirBNB that would house us for the night.
As we looked forward to the evening’s event I began to think about the people of our generation…the most musical generation in history. We had marched through DO Wop, Motown, Acid Rock, the Blues, Soul, Disco, Punk, Grunge and more… every part of our lives had its own soundtrack. Van Morrison was a significant stop on our musical journey. Later in the evening we would have evidence of the generational quality of our music.
We walked about a mile to the Bowl and picked up our pre-paid picnic lunches. What a change from concerts earlier in our lives when we hoped someone remembered to bring some beans and rice to eat during the show. This was one of the rewards we get for living as long as we have ….lunch comes to us. We had our picnic and went to our seats. We bought cushions to place on bench seats a far cry from our days in open, muddy fields. We had arrived.
Van took the stage and a time warp began. I could hear Van’s Irishness in every song, whether it was bluesy or soulful, the Irish twang was there in the plaintive, sometimes bellicose, tone of the Belfast docks. Van actually created something called “Celtic Soul” and that was evident. A virtuoso saxophonist and a fabulous harp player, Van brought a feast of talent. During a long and complicated set Van always brought energy and incomparable presence…it was easy to understand his status as a legend. At the end of the set, magic happened. Van played Gloria and Brown Eyed Girl. All 17,000 attendees stood and sang along…everyone knew the songs word for word. Van was clearly a part of everyone’s soundtrack.
After the show,we set sail on a sea of humanity as the aforementioned 17,000 exited through a single portal. When the human gridlock broke loose, we hoofed back to our digs. As we thumbed trail mix and Raisenettes into our mouths, we made many a joke about our advancing age. We remembered earlier days when we would be up for hours talking about everything and nothing with equal intensity. Not so on this day. We were all asleep within minutes.
The return trip was easy and fun and and I thought about some lyrics from Irish Heartbeat, “Oh won’t you stay Stay a while with your own ones Don’t ever stray Stray so far from your old ones.” The old ones in the Gang now had a wonderful common adventure in their memory hoard…and that was the best part of the trip.
Olio Folio 