August 12

Many many days ago I made a bold commitment to post each and every day for one whole year...I kept it together for about a week. But I have excuses and apologies and recommitments. You see, we went away for several days--and access to the internet was limited or nonexistent. I should have delayed the 365 declaration until after the mini-trips, or planned better...given it my all and whatnot. Nonetheless, I shall voyage onward. To make up for my faux pas I will retrace those lost days, all the while doing that onward voyaging thing. The first day that I missed, my wife and I set off for western Massachusetts with our two sons (3 and 1) to see Wilco at Tanglewood. We divided the journey into two parts: two and a half hours to the hotel room, then about one more to the show. We had decided that some down time (hotel) would be good for the boys, rather than driving straight all that way and expecting excitement once we arrived. But, less than fifteen minutes after we'd checked in, the front desk called to say that they'd received a complaint about noise--the boys were running around, nothing excessive...they'd never been in a hotel room before, and they're boys. Kinda sucked. Now I know to always request a first floor room. If that was a bit of a downer it really was no matter, especially considering the concert.
Tanglewood is heaven-like. The grounds are beautiful, with spectacular views. The vibe is relaxed and chill--the way a concert venue should be. I have been to far too many concerts where the staff were assholes or the concertgoers were assholes. Not at Tanglewood. For one, they allow you to bring your own food and alcohol onto the lawn, as well as strollers, chairs, tables. Are you kidding me? And it's not like they don't sell beer and wine and snacks. That's the way it should be. Granted, they're catering to the BSO crowd. Wilco crowds are typically cool, too, and the crowd stayed true to form. A lot of kids as well. My boys had a blast. The grounds are expansive, and Finny got in some prime dusk sprinting time--it was as though we were racing across Gatsby's lawn (if Gatsby lived in the Berkshires). And Knox spent a good part of the concert strolling around making friends. We sat, we danced, we walked, we played. And the music was grand (sorry Holden). Jeff Tweedy was his usual entertaining, humorous, excellent self. Really a wonderful night. We've decided that an annual pilgrimage is necessary, and look forward to next year's schedule to find what's most appealing.