A Boy Never Really Grows Up (Or: Don's Contribution Today)

Last night Don and my oldest brother, Steve, went to a free concert down along the Hudson River somewhere to see the Smithereens. It began at 7:00 p.m. (what does that say? No more midnight gigs for these aging rock stars, or their aging fans), so Don left work a few minutes early, zipped home to change and pass around kisses and hugs, then charged back out the door. He got home around 10:30 p.m. or thereabouts, all smiles and energy. Apparently they had a really fabulous time -- right in front of the stage, talked to the guys afterwards for a while, got autographs and pictures. Unfortunately I just couldn't muster up any enthusiasm; I nodded and "hmmm'd" and "ooh'd" while I continued to read my book as he retold the events of the evening. I don't know anything about the Smithereens. I had no desire to go to that concert, and even if I did I had to stay home with the kiddies anyway. Fine with me. I had checked out a non-husband movie from the library -- "Mona Lisa Smile," a girlie version of "Dead Poet's Society," with girls instead of boys, art history instead of English literature, same snobby prep school venue, but not nearly as good as the Robin Williams' classic -- and had a fine evening all on my own.

Both Steve and Don asked if I would post these cell-phone produced pix on my blog. I'm feeling gracious. Here they are. And that's the end of this post. (I am glad they had a good time).