Aaron Sees a Show (Asbury Park, December 8, 2001)

I was making final preparations to leave my parents' house for Asbury Park last night, when I heard Aaron running up the 14 steps to the bedroom floor. "Dada," he said, "I want to come to the concert with you."

This was not completely new. Our 4-year old had tried the same thing a few weeks ago when we came in for the Alliance of Neighbors concerts in Red Bank; then we had placated him by allowing him to watch the Comcast broadcast of the show. I tried to think of some ideas, but before I could speak, he dropped the bomb: "Mommy said I can go with you."

I've planned to take Aaron to a show eventually. To be sure, there were several parents with reasonably young children at Friday's show. And I'm well aware of Aaron's attraction to all things musical, including planting himself as close as possible to performers or loudspeakers. But, still -- floor tickets for a Springsteen show at Convention Hall?

"Aaron, do you remember the time you tried the headphones and they were so loud you got scared and cried?"
Yes.
"This will be louder."
Oh.
"So you'll stay with Grandma and Grandpa?"
I'm going to the concert.
"This will be MUCH louder."
I won't be scared. Loud noises don't scare me. I'll go with you and mommy.
"But I only have two tickets. We can't all go."
I have an idea. I'll go with you and Mommy can stay here.

Aaron remembered that the concert we took him to last month in the park by the boats (the free concert in Red Bank). I remembered the days before Aaron had ideas. Lori cheered. My mom wondered aloud if she was the only one in the house with any sanity. Finally, I said, "Aaron, put on your shoes. You can come to the concert." Lori told Aaron about the holiday songs and the stage lights, and handed us ear plugs.

At 7:50, we pulled into Asbury Park. 39 degrees, raining, windy. The only parking to be found was all the way at the end of Kingsley Avenue. My umbrella was no match for the wind. Aaron made it to Convention Hall in one piece, but it was too late to find anyone with assigned seats who'd be willing to trade for general admission. Aaron took a seat on my shoulders.

The concert began with members of the choir singing "He's Got the Whole World in his Hands"; Aaron immediately understood the similarity to what he had seen in Red Bank. The horns came on and played "Deck the Halls." This was good: first, similarity to the outside concert, then holiday music. Aaron noticed the lights and the curtains -- the curtains looked like outer space, he would say later. He liked that.

Bruce played "Incident on 57th Street" on the piano, and Aaron hit me on the eyebrows. "When is it going to be loud?" Jimmy Vivino took the mike, and Aaron shouted, "I want to go see the speakers!" Aaron came down from my shoulders and led me through the crowd on the floor, right up underneath the speakers. Helluva view from there; Aaron wasn't interested. By the time "Thundercrack" started, he wanted a seat. Eventually, we found a pair opposite the stage and squated (it lasted about half an hour; the second pair we found got us through the rest of the show).

Patti came on and sang "Spanish Dancer." Aaron asked when it would be loud, emphasizing the lack of loudness by removing his earplugs. I convinced him that this was just a temporary not loud part and go him to accept the ear plugs again. Garland Jeffries came on. Garland Jeffries was not loud. The ear plugs came out for good.

Four year olds have limits, and Aaron's came quickly thereafter. Most of the 2nd half of the show will not be remembered by him. By the time Jefferies was finished, so was Aaron. Elvis Costello's fine surprise appearance and rendition of "Allison" with pieces of "Tracks of My Tears" added on was not witnessed. Nor was the encore performance of the Tall Sexy Accordian Player and his Hot Chocolate Thunder Revue. Aaron stirred somewhat for the holiday sounds of "Merry Christmas Baby" -- with a lot of prompting. Max pounding at "Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)" went unnoticed, and the bedlam of "Rosalita" barely rated a stir.

When at last the house lights came on, the child came back. Upset that he had missed the holiday songs and presents at the end, but willing to go on a search and recovery mission for a candy cane. We went down to the floor, and after a substantial search, finally found one that was all in one piece, still safe in its wrapper. Aaron had a prize -- edible, too.

The walk back to the end of Kingsley Avenue was perfectly brutal. Driving rain, horrible wind. Aaron floated the whole way.

"Did you like the concert?" Yes!!
"What was your favorite part?"
At the end of the concert, when I got the candy cane. It tasted like peppermint.