You needn't love it to love it

How could I have tried so hard to be a hippie in the 60's and 70's and yet never gone to a Rolling Stones concert? I finally had my chance a few days ago when Mick and the boys returned to Seattle for the first time in a decade. I'm so glad I went. And, I don't ever need to go again.

Some impressions:

The people who buy $100 to $500 Stones tickets are not hippies or rockers. They're lawyers and dentists reliving their youths. (Like me.) They're also football season ticket holders who have "insider access" to the supposedly scarce tickets and hope they can double or triple their costs by selling the tix on eBay. Instead, the street corners around the Seattle Seahawks stadium were crowded with scalpers offering tickets at half price. Still, it was far from a sellout.

You go for the experience, not the music. The sound was muddy. I understood at most half of what Mick said to the audience, and very few of the lyrics. Good thing the ubiquitous Stones tunes are so familiar. Being part of the "happening" was like being on an Anthropology field trip.

The Rolling Stones and Dave Matthews, the opening act, must be hurting, financially. Why else would the stage have been dominated by two large banners, even larger than the video screens, displaying the Radio Shack logo?

If you're a 57 year old dad who believes your 16 year old daughter will think you're really cool when you phone her from the concert so she can hear the thundering background music, you're wrong.

I'm so glad I went. And, I don't ever need to go again.

You don't have to love an experience to love having had it.

That %&!!#@! bleeping car in front of you!

Teaching my teenage daughter to drive this week has prompted introspection about my own patience and courtesy toward other drivers. Naturally, my kid is not a very good driver... yet. I nervously ride shotgun, eagle-eyeing the mirrors and "offering helpful suggestions." As she slowly accelerates after stop signs, I see the impatient drivers behind us muttering complaints about her bad driving. Yesterday, she began a turn too late and ended up partially blocking a quiet country road. Yet, an angry and impatient woman in a battered wreck of a pickup truck shook her fist and yelled, "You shouldn't be driving! Get off the road!"

These experiences have made me realize that I'm often critical of drivers who I judge to be incompetent. Well, maybe they are incompetent. They may be brand-new drivers who are hesitant or even panicked.

I invite you to do as I'm going to do: whenever we're behind slow or indecisive drivers, let's quit being critical and assume that we're following someone who needs some patience and understanding.