Summer Wind

The summer wind came blowin' in from across the sea. That's what I'm feeling today, since it's summer and the wind I feel could logically be blowing in from the Pacific Ocean, or more precisely the San Francisco Bay. But before all of that, when I lived on the other side of the Rocky Mountains, if we got a breeze, it was most likely coming from the pending afternoon thunder shower that was such a part of those Junes, Julys and Augusts. Just like the annual announcement of Feyline's Summer of Stars.
Who would be playing where always caused a surge of excitement through our house. My older brother and I would go down the list, paying careful attention to which bands would be playing at Red Rocks Amphitheater and which would be crowding the multi-act bills for the "Sunday" concert series, held on the field at the University of Colorado. Sure, there were plenty of little shows and smaller venues, but that wasn't what we were looking for. We were after headliners: Eagles, Stones, Springsteen, and of course, Jimmy Buffett. We planned our summers based on the tours that would be winding their way into those Rocky Mountains. We did this with full knowledge that in spite of three hundred days of sunshine each year, the last snow might be melting as late as the first day of the summer. This combined with those summer showers meant that if you were going to hang out all day long in one of those big outdoor venues, you probably want to have a poncho or a parka or a blanket, not to mention a bucket of chicken and plenty of beverages. General admission, it was the cross that we chose to bear, but that wasn't the thought that was running through our collective head when we looked at that schedule. We could only imagine how we could get up the enthusiasm and cash to buy one of those package deals: Heart, J.J. Cale, Cheap Trick, and Jimmy Buffett. Single shows meant you had to wait and buy each ticket separately. Would they be there when it was time? Sure, I could stand in line, but could I stand to wait? Having that ticket in hand, knowing that I would be back up there climbing all those stairs in just a couple weeks. It's what we used to do in the summer: go to concerts. Back when you could buy a ticket for eight dollars. The ticket stub you can now sell for thirty dollars.
I kept mine. They are memories of summers gone by. Like the wind.