I went to the Hollywood Bowl again this last week and, this time, well, this was the show of the summer for me. That's kind of what I'd been waiting for. It was my ultimate Bowl-going that I know and love. Where everything falls into place and it's somehow spontaneously perfect.
I always kind of wait until the last minute to invite someone to any given show throughout the summer. This time, my friend Maddy was my date. We used to work together, and I remembered her saying that she wanted to go to this show back when I bought my tickets. So she was stoked for the invite. And it magically turned out that our friend Marcos and his boyfriend were able to scrounge up tickets as well. So the crew was assembled.
Obviously, we didn't have tickets anywhere near each other. But the Bowl is my turf, so I told them to stick with me and all would be well. I did what I always do, which is never sit in the seats I purchased, which is pretty much what every Bowl veteran does unless you have box seats, which is part of the charm of the Hollywood Bowl that has stayed intact over the years. Which makes me happy, because, as you know, I like life a little bit more free and haphazard than the next guy.
So I led our group toward the perfect little cluster of seats. The trick is picking out the right row. Because you have to know it won't fill up with late-comers. And, more than that, you have to pick the right section so that if you do get kicked out, you can easily act like you accidentally sat in the row right behind yours and casually move up.
I'm quite proud of my acumen at it. There was definitely a learning curve. Once, years ago, I ended up sitting in no seats and having to stand by the bushes in the aisles. I've got my formula now, though, or some Bowl intuition gained over the years.
As for the show itself, it was amazing. I brought sangria and gouda and Marcos brought two other delectable cheeses that I must ask him about and a variety of crackers and we were all very pleased with the piquant picnic combination. Delicious and simple. The night was glorious. Our favorite act, hands down, was Passion Pit. The music filled the sky with that Hollywood Bowl majesty that compares to nothing.
For me, it gets me every time at the right show there, that whole sky, filled with music, holds me and surrounds me and any worries completely disappear and I know how good life is to me and I smile with gratitude.
And I couldn't have asked for better company. Because it felt like we were all appreciating it just as much. And we were carefree and happy.
I thought of something again too. I've noticed that as I get older I seem to gather younger friends, and only every so often realize it, like that night. But I guess it's because we tend to attract people with a similar outlook and perspective on life more than just people of the same age. Or somehow there's just a connection. I mean, it really doesn't matter how many years you've lived here or not to me, but how you're living here.
I know I've always had the mystified child's outlook, though, even more than my younger friends, who are already being trained to take life too seriously. And I'm idealistic to the core of me. Most people tend to drift from that and buckle down in the world as adults. But my wonder remains.
I think people might forget, but what we were we ever are. Remember, we are all just a child, too. Some just seem to abandon the child they were and some, I guess, like me, keep it right there with the rest of who they've become.
Anyway, I've never had this big plot construed about becoming an adult, but only a plot to watch the bright days unfold and experience it as it comes and be just me and hopefully gain some wisdom to extol and engage with it all as much as possible. I'd rather do that than have a plan that doesn't work out.
Like this woman I often encounter in Brentwood when I'm on my lunch break. She's always just enjoyed talking to me and the other day she was grumbling about how hard it is to be in her 50s and divorced and I was just thinking that the only reason that was hard is that she never found her happiness alone. But all I said was that I don't think life was meant to be easy anyway and that knowing that can allow us to just experience this crazy place for all that it is. She seemed to take that to heart. At least, she repeated it out loud to herself before we parted, in any case. There's a child in her too.
Ultimately, to me, your life is its days. So it's the days that matter. Which is why I love when I have one that is so full and complete, like that one that ended at the Hollywood Bowl with my sweet friends and the music holding me on the hillside.
Alas, I have no more time to ponder on this fine day, for I must go and prepare for a business trip with adult people. What fun for this child heart of mine! I'm looking upon that prospect with sparkles in my eyes too, because, I mean, it's very serious, and that amuses me to no end.