On Monday night, October 27, I was in New York City, at the Beacon Theatre, listening to the Allman Brothers Band for the last time in my rapidly waning life.
How did this happen, you ask.
My sons. My sons bought me two tickets to the second to last show ever for The Allman Brothers Band.
At no small expense.
How do you respond to something like that? Such an extravagant gesture?
You dig it to the max.
What they gave me cannot be described, it cannot be understood, except by me.
And I am humbled.
Initially I set things up to attend with my brother. He has recently recognized the glory of this band and I wanted him to experience them in the high church that is the Beacon. He is my brother and my friend and as such does double duty in the meaningful column. The intensity he brings to my life illuminates all that is good about being alive.
Plans came together, plans fell apart.
I then E-mailed my oldest and closest friend in the world, also a mad ABB fan. We have attended countless concerts together. His reply came back telling me that he was in Florida. BUT he said give me a day. I'll see what I can work out.
The next day I got an E-mail saying "I'm in. I booked a flight."
I was exuberant.
How insanely was this coming together? Phil flying up from Florida to NYC for one night, then back to Florida. Me bussing it to Boston, Amtraking it to NYC and back.
The whole trip was a testimony to the closeness of family. Carol put a lot of time and effort in to researching then arranging my travel plans. She even loosened up her grip on the purse strings. Initially she was looking in to bussing the whole way because it is so cheap. Suddenly she said to me "You know what? Take the train. It will be easier and more comfortable for you. This is a special night and you should enjoy the whole experience to the max."
Do you have a loving wife like that? I doubt it.
Phil checked into the hotel at 3:00. I was supposed to be there by then but the train got delayed for 2 and 1/2 hours. I finally got to the hotel at 5:15.
The show was at 8:00.
I dropped my bag on the bed, said hello to my old friend, and literally turned around and walked out the door.
We hit a restaurant we've been to before, strolled down Broadway to a bar, had a couple of drinks then walked on over to the Beacon. We spent the time laughing, catching up and reminiscing. We haven't seen each other in a couple of years.
Walked into the Beacon at 7:55. Immediately felt the thrill of being there, the history of the place, the shared history of The Allman Brothers in this place, the vibrant hum of a loving and loyal crowd anticipating one of the last shows of a band that is legendary and has the chops to back up that legend.
Our seats were in the upper balcony, dead center stage. A perfect spot to take in the whole experience because this band spreads across the stage. Two full drum kits, tympani, percussion, seven band members standing where they stand - when they are wailing there is so much to see it is cool to be able to see it all at once.
We could see it all at once. Perfectly.
The acoustics of the Beacon are impeccable. There are no bad seats.
They strolled onto the stage around 8:30. This gave us time for another drink or two and to strike up immediate friendships with the people around us. Which happens at every Allman Brothers concert I have ever been to and happens easily. Naturally.
Many of us traded stories about how we came to attend the second to last concert. My story was at the top of the list.
No fanfare with this band, which I have always loved. They walk onto the stage in the dark, everybody starts cheering, they start playing and the lights come up.
No introduction, no drama.
They blew the walls of the Beacon apart. The band excels anyway. At the Beacon they always take it up a notch. Given the meaningfulness of this run they took it up even another notch.
Cannot tell you how many times my mouth dropped open at what I was seeing, what I was hearing. How many times I high fived Phil and others around me as we said in unison "Jesus Christ, can you believe that?"
Twice that night I had tears in my eyes as I looked down on that stage, at this band, knowing I would never see them again. Both times thoughts of my sons were deeply mixed up in those emotions.
They rocked us until midnight and were gone.
I bought the perfect T-shirt commemorating that night. I now own two T-shirts purchased at the Beacon. I will never throw those away, no matter how threadbare they get. The older one is already pretty thin.
Phil and I partied on. It was New York City, for Christ sake - you didn't think we were going to bed early, did you?
Got back to the hotel at 3:30. Phil was up at nine to catch his flight, I was out of the room at 11:00.
Just like that it was over. The lateness of my arrival turned the night in to a full speed fun fest.
It was an explosion of joy, release, awe, friendship, and insanity.
You don't get many nights like that in your life.
Phil and I had one, thanks to my sons.
I got home at 8:00 that night to a quiet house. Carol bowls on Tuesday nights. I loved my cats, sat down in the recliner with pizza and exhaled to think about the insane experience I just enjoyed.
Still, I am in awe.
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