Like many other small towns, this week ours played host to an evening of dreams. This happens around six times each summer in the late afternoon when a band carries amplifiers, cables, and instruments across the newly mowed grass at our local park. Once assembled, these ingredients come together to create two hours of musical bliss.
After the band comes the audience, at a variety of times and with a variety of burdens. Some come early, with full dinners packed into a cooler, while others drift in bearing chunks of cheddar and bottles of wine. Or maybe they’re only toting a lawn chair and a bottle of water. The goal is the same – to slip off their sandals and run their toes through the grass while they bask in music on a summer night.
Some strolled the field, stopping to chat with friends. Others settled onto the old bedspread they’d tossed down or into their camp chairs. Everywhere there were running children, cartwheeling teenagers, and dogs yearning to run free. The band played My Girl, Grapevine, and the blockbuster hit, Happy. Small children took over the stage, dancing and dreaming of when they would be stars and their grandparents sat and remembered when they were young and dancers, too.