With every lesson learned a line upon your beautiful face

A summary of people I observed at last night’s Indigo Girls concert:

• A preppy-looking girl in the rear balcony who swayed wildly in time with the music and blew rapid-fire air kisses the first time Amy Ray turned her direction.
• A man who danced and swayed to a song no one else was moving to (not even the air kiss girl)—until he persuaded the two women he was with to join him.
• A front row trio who danced wildly whenever one of their favorite songs was played
• Band members struggling not to giggle at the exuberant flailing in the front row.
• A singer seeking out one of those dancing fans, then giving her guitar pick over.
• An opening act who stood in the wings, singing along with every word, whenever she wasn’t on stage with a band she clearly idolizes.
• A young couple on my row that clearly came just for the opening act.
• 60+-year-old men beaming at said opener’s performance.
• A 60+-year-old woman clearly loving the concert, and her smile expressing that… behind the blinking red clown nose on her face.
• A middle-aged woman in her Talbots-type clothes throwing the rock symbol during the encore. (Jamie said, “Whatever, one day you’ll be the woman who shops at Talbots.” I don’t think they carry my size, I said. Sometimes I’m a little obnoxious. “Fine—you’ll be the middle-aged woman in Ann Taylor, throwing rock at a Ryan Adams show.” That sounds about right.)

Music is for everyone, and I think that’s a beautiful thing