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The Kid Is Alright

By Matthew Fogelson

“I totally messed up,” I said turning to my wife as Pete Townshend struck the first windmill power chord of The Who’s electrifying set in Golden Gate Park.

We were close enough to feel the breeze thanks to the VIP tickets I had purchased for about a month’s salary. My wife gave me an empathetic look as the chorus to “I Can’t Explain” reverberated around the fairgrounds, a long-lost friend wrapping us in a familiar sonic embrace. “Don’t blame yourself,” she yelled into my already-ringing ear.

At home, no doubt Snapchatting on his new iPhone, was our twelve-year-old son. I had offered to get him a ticket, but after going back and forth on it for a day or so, he ultimately declined. “I don’t want to be up late the night before camp starts,” he explained.

“Fair enough,” I said, somehow controlling my inner voice which was screaming “Dude, it’s just day camp!” But I let it go, shocked into inaction by my son’s first-ever request for a good night’s sleep.

 

     

About the Author

Matt Fogelson writes about music on his blog, Fine Tuning: A Site for Sore Ears, a project to help classic rock fans stuck in the 1970s (albeit blissfully) find new music. His essays exploring the confluence of music and parenting have appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post and other outlets. When not searching for twenty-first century bands that share a musical aesthetic with the Velvet Underground, the Rolling Stones and the Grateful Dead, he practices law. He resides in Oakland, California.    

 

 

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