My Memories of that Concert in London

When I saw "memories of the first concert you ever attended" on AC's assignment desk, memories of my first concert came rushing in. It may seem unusual for a person to say that the first concert they ever attended was after they were old enough to draw Social Security, but that was the case with me.

In 2008, my husband and I were preparing for our upcoming visit to his nephew, Doug's family in England when Doug's wife, Kathleen, called and asked if we would like to attend a concert during our visit. I knew the answer as soon as she asked: I would; my husband would not.

While he likes music, he likes his kind, and the thought of being forced to sit through a long session of orchestral music is a real turn-off to him. That and the fact that we live 50 miles from the edge of nowhere might account for the fact that even at our advanced age we had never attended a concert. We married so young that neither of us has much history before our wedding.

Kathleen said Doug feels the same way about it as my husband does. But she would get tickets for her and me. The concert was to be the day after we arrived in England.

Unfortunately, our flight from New York City to England was cancelled, and we were forced to spend the night in NYC, making us a day late arriving in England.

After a sleepless night on the plane and a frustrating, time-consuming snafu at the airport, we were finally able to get together with Kathleen and she drove us to their house a few hours from the airport.

With no sleep the night before, nerves jangled from the confusion and all the retracing of our steps at the airport, dragging our luggage behind us, we arrived at their house exhausted and punchy. Kathleen looked a bit disappointed and asked if I would still be able to and want to attend the concert, which was to be that night. I told her I would be fine as soon as I could grab a shower and a couple of hours of sleep.

When the trip was in the planning stages, Doug had asked what we might like to see while in England. My husband told him basically anything but London. He had heard horror stories about crime in London, and after experiencing New York City traffic many years before, he wanted no part of such big cities. Our experience in New York on this trip had done nothing to allay his fears.

I realized I had not asked Kathleen where the concert was to be held nor who was to be playing, and she had not volunteered that information. But to me it didn't really matter. I had a feeling it might be in London, but I felt she knew her way around so that didn't bother me much. If it had been elsewhere, I wouldn't have known where that was located, anyway, so I didn't ask.

About three hours after arriving at Doug and Kathleen's house, I was back in the car with Kathleen and we were on our way to the concert. On the way, she confessed to me that the concert was to be in London. That didn't bother me at all; in fact I was a bit excited about it.

She drove for an hour or more, and then parked the car in a small parking lot at the edge of a village, telling me this was the beginning point of the Metro. We got on the Metro and were soon zooming our way towards London. People got on at many brief stops, and the train traveled at what to me was an unbelievably fast rate of speed.

In a short while we were underground in the London subway. That bothered me a bit, especially when I read in a paper someone had left on the train that there had been an incident a few days earlier where all underground train traffic had been blocked and people stuck in the subway for 5 or 6 hours. I had always had a horror of the subways in New York City and I could just imagine the crime that could take place on the London subway. But our ride was uneventful, she knew how to change trains when necessary, and if she had any question about it, she simply stopped a passerby and asked for directions.

Once we reached our intended stop, we left the train and climbed the steps to the street. We had a bit of time to spare, so she showed me some of the local sights in the area. The concert was to be held a short distance from the church where Prince Charles and Diana had been married. I wanted to see inside the church, but they were locking the doors for the day just as we arrived there.

Soon we were in a line that wound around the corner of the hall where the concert would be held. The wait was surprisingly short and, once inside, we had no problems finding a seat. I was feeling a bit tired and sleepy, but the sight of all those beautiful musical instruments sitting there waiting for the musicians was enough to energize me.

Within a few minutes, the members of the orchestra came out, picked up their instruments, and the music started. While I can't remember the name of the orchestra, I thoroughly enjoyed the music and was impressed with their talent and choice of music. It was a relief not to be hearing loud rock music, but I was thankful they didn't play much soothing music, because it surely would have put me to sleep. Even so, I found myself nodding off a few times.

I expected all the music to be played by the orchestra. So I was surprised when a few younger musicians, dressed to the nines in tux and tails, came onstage to put on a show of their own. They even had a couple of singers, who were good but unmemorable.

When they finished their offerings, the orchestra resumed playing and I was once more enthralled.

Then there was a pause and a rag-tag group emerged from the wings with their instruments. I couldn't believe they would actually appear on the stage with those elegant orchestra members, as they were dressed in a motley mixture of western and resale shop attire.

The young man who played the piano that was situated not far from my seat, had light brown hair done in someone's attempt at dreadlocks that appeared to have been slept in for a few weeks. His western attire was spotless, however, and his cowboy boots clean, but he certainly looked out of place in that concert hall.

There were only a few of this group, and my attention was drawn almost entirely to the pianist and the guitarist who sang a few songs. They watched each other closely as they performed, apparently trying to stay together in the music. The thing that impressed me most was how much they seemed to be enjoying themselves.

The pianist, especially, was so radiant that I soon forgot everything about the way he looked except for the joy radiating from his face. He was obviously having the time of his life. Kathleen whispered, "He's thinking he just can't believe he's actually playing in the same place as this big orchestra, and he's loving every minute of it." I had to agree with her. To me, it was the high point of the evening. Joy can be contagious.

It bothers me that I have no memory of the name of the orchestra or either of the smaller groups that performed that night. But since they weren't well-known names in America, I suppose it doesn't matter that much. I was so grogged out from jet lag and loss of sleep that I probably wouldn't have remembered if they had been world famous.

While they were all excellent musicians, the memory of the one performer that is still stuck in my mind is that young man with the dreadlocks, playing his heart out and sharing his joy with all who could see his face. I wish I could see and hear him again.