1. Westen’s dance with a friend. A widow friend of mine was watching the boys recently and likes to have dance parties. I wasn’t there, but she said Westen agreed to dance with her. It was such a sweet thing, but struck me hard. Mary was very affectionate. She taught me the importance of touch as I had come from a family that didn’t express love in that way. I cannot provide a loving, female touch for my sons. I’m grateful for the friends who will break the rules. I am grateful for those who choose life and love over fear and death.
2. James Brown, Woodstock ’99. Officially the first act of the weekend, we were a little late to the grounds and didn’t have a great spot on the gently sloping hill. “Dude. When the music starts, let’s jump up and crowd surf closer.” Doubt crossed my buddy’s face. “I’m too tall, they’ll never keep me up.” “No way man, just keep hollering so people know you’re coming, if they push you the wrong way, roll towards the stage, trust me.” He didn’t trust me. Brown’s hype man came on and I said, “Okay, I’ll meet you at the tent later.” It was the first time I had crowd surfed during the day and it was a blast. I grooved right towards the stage and, at times, rolled like I was a kid on a hill. I dropped into a dance circle (crowd density will put you in a dance circle or mosh pit, depending) and let loose to a legend. It was the last time I got on top of a crowd. There were some scary moments that weekend. It was my first personal experience of imminently dangerous mob mentality. I’m grateful for my insane adventures, dancing in the middle of a riot (a separate gratitude, perhaps), and an inherent immunity to following the crowd.
3. Seu Jorge, The Trocadero, Philly, 2006. That was the year France knocked a cocky Brazil out of the World Cup. Hours before Mary and I were to see, as it turned out, Brazil’s most disappointed fans.
I can’t recall if there was an opening act or if they were so lackluster as to be forgotten, but I do remember the empty stage that seemed to last for an eternity before Jorge appeared. Nearly half the crowd gave up and eventually left. Mary and I went to the balcony to have a seat, the wait was long. I noticed a man wearing France’s colors, beaming with joy. That was weird, even the die hards still present were getting surly. “Oh no. Honey. The band is Brazilian.” I had watched the game. Truly a devastating loss for a team that had cruised to the quarterfinals. “Even if they come on, they’re probably wasted. Okay, this’ll be a story at least. If they suck we’ll roll out.”
They did suck. Lifeless, shoulders drooped, they shuffled on stage. Mary and I were let down, we had become huge fans after seeing Jorge play Bowie songs in Portuguese in The Life Aquatic With Steve Zissou. Then, like a time lapse video in health class, we watched the healing power of music. It was transfixing. Life crawled back into their bodies. It seemed to take ages, but they started moving to the music. The crowd felt it. We had stayed in the balcony, watching in near disbelief. It became a party. The audience was small, but the energy pendulum swung as high into positivity as it had into negativity. The band entered the crowd and they all swirled to the music. We marveled and moved with the human hurricane from our place in space. It was pure gratitude, healing, and redemption. The band was grateful for those who had stuck it out, the crowd was grateful for the band’s ability to rescue a presumably failed evening, and we were grateful to be a part of this unique moment in concert history.
4. Love Seed Mama Jump, Anson B. Nixon Park, Kennett Square, PA, 2018. Just me and the boys. Nonstop dancing. We had a soccer ball near the stage and bopped and clowned among hula hoopers and kids. No cares. All fun.
5. Hoots and Hellmouth, Mushroom Festival, Kennett Square, PA, 2019. I was the first one on the dance floor. The boys had friends with them and were nearly embarrassed by me. I was feeling myself. Hoots is one of the best foot stomping bands you’ll ever see. I’ve been a fan since their previous West Chester incarnation, Pilot ‘Round the Sun. On our first date as parents, Mary had to “pump and dump” between Hoots sets in 2009.
My friend Lori joined me on the dance floor and I Iike to think we shamed all the twenty-somethings sitting on their duffs. I’m grateful for not giving a darn. I’m grateful for knowing just how short life might be. I’m grateful for the healing power of movement. I’m grateful for every dance.
God bless and thank you for reading,
Jason