An Awesome Mini (Okay, Micro) Woodstock

What do you do if you’re in a band and all the local bars you gig in are closed, and rehearsing is tricky because of social distancing? You play outdoors, of course, which is what happened in our front yard recently. Yes, with the magic of small battery-run amplifiers, my husband Randy created a tiny rock festival.

In a shady grove next to the driveway lies a flat bit of land we never use, except for extra parking. Little did we know, it would become the perfect jam spot. It’s now known as the Grassy Knoll (no relation to Dealey Plaza in Dallas, thank God). Randy can now have four or five musicians jam under a canape of tall shade trees.

We had such a “leaf-a-palooza” this past Fourth of July.

And yes, it gets hotter than we’d like, but beggars can’t be choosers. Randy could be hit hard if he got the virus and he’s vigilant about social distancing. He’s not ready to pack our crowded basement with ten people or more and I don’t blame him. Plus, it’s more fun and well, “summery” to play outdoors.

This past Sunday afternoon, family, friends and a few neighbors pulled up lawn chairs (six feet apart, of course) and listened to some great local musicians.

I sat and watched my husband thump away on his bass, swaying to the music. Now retired, nothing makes him happier than playing his beloved songs, especially with friends. I’ve seen over the years how musicians need notes and rhythm like artists need paint and sculptors need clay. It’s in their blood.

Old time college friend Warren (forty-two years have passed since we graduated? Really!?) played his usual impassioned, “shredding” lead guitar.  (Yes, I learned that cool term from him and other guitarists).

Dapper Joe on drums kept the usual steady beat (yes, drummers can be dapper). Sultry songbirds Betsy and Beth, adorned in their usual hip, flowy clothes and cool jewelry, sang  Bruce’s “Pink Cadillac” and “I’m No Good,” by Amy Winehouse.

Then there was Steve on congas (who plays the Rainbow Room in Manhattan, thank you very much) and Teddy’s crazy-good, searing sax.

This time, I had an extra bonus: My oldest son Patrick played guitar and my youngest Paul sat in on drums. Patrick played a rollicking “Folsom Prison Blues’ by Johnny Cash. Paul played “All the Small Things” by Blink-182.

Of course, wine and bubbly flowed.

Sigh. If there’s something better than listening to your husband and sons play music on a warm summer day, surrounded by family and friends, I don’t know what it is. Randy gets full credit for passing on the music gene to our boys and I’m grateful.

Once in a while, a car drove slowly past, since the music was close to the road. One time an older man stood videotaping the festivities. We got nervous, not sure if he was getting evidence for the cops, but nothing happened.

For three hours, we heard Paul Simon, the Pretenders, Bad Finger, Elton John, you name it, we heard it.

And then it became hot and buggy and was time to leave. Like gypsies, everyone packed up their gear and the Grassy Knoll lay empty again.

Sometimes I drive by on my way in and out and try not to picture this spot in six months, under a foot of snow, these jam sessions a memory.

And then — because I’m neurotic and can’t help it — I take this reverie a step further and picture fifty years from now.

The next owners of our house will have no idea this unassuming piece of grass once held bands on summer afternoons. They’ll never know people sat on lawn chairs and drank wine and listened to the Beatles and Jackson Five. And even if they did, they’d probably think it quaint and old-fashioned, the way people always think of the past.

But for now, here we are. I bring myself back to the present – all of us doing the best we can, playing and listening to notes and rhythm in the midst of a scary, countrywide pandemic. What else can we do?

Maybe next summer we’ll be back to jamming in our air-conditioned basement. Who knows?  The Grassy Knoll will be a fleeting memory, a time when our musician friends got together and made music – beautiful music – that drifted up through the trees and into the sky.

 

Do you like live music? Comments are always welcome and if you’d like to share, please do!

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