When the Music Ends

The last note of music has sounded at Bonnaroo 2017, for me, anyway.

I decided to shut it down after last night and skip Sunday's festivities.  The toe I broke in January hasn't reacted well to all of the walking and standing I did, listening to music, the last three days and nights.  By the time Doug, Mike and I left last night, it was red, inflamed and terribly painful to walk on.  Since I am going to Predators-Penguins, Game 6 (Pens up 3-2) tonight at 7 p.m., I thought a little discretion was in order, so I'm enjoying a quite midday cup of coffee at the Blue Chair before I pack up and head back to  Nashville.

It was a good weekend with the boys.  The cabin was perfect for us.  Doug Brown made a cameo appearance yesterday - his first trip to Bonnaroo - which was pretty awesome.  He's not a music guy nor a festival guy, so it meant a lot to me for him to drive up from Atlanta.  The three of us got to spend some quality time together and share a beer or two, which happens all too rarely these days.  In many ways, we have a shared history - so many of my stories from high school onward cast Doug and Mike in starring roles.  It's good to get together and reminisce about times past and to catch up on current events in our lives.

As always, the music was front and center.  I particularly enjoyed Mondo Cozmo, the Strumbellas (probably the band I most wanted to see this year), Creature Comfort, Belly and the Head and the Heart.  U2 was nothing to write home about, I thought.  Bono is a little too preachy for my tastes.

Sadly, it was harder to unwind and let go this weekend than in years past.  For one thing, my mom was on my mind, thoughts of her struggles always lurking just beneath the surface of my conscious mind.  I felt guilty, at times, enjoying myself while she is fighting what will be the last battle of her life.  Also, work intruded on my weekend, as a pair of clients texted me - literally - while I was watching a band.  That's probably on me, though, as I insist on giving my clients my cell phone number.

Anyway, time to head back tor reality, throbbing toe and all.  Let's go Preds!