Last Friday night, Cyndi and I (and our daughter, Katie, and great friends the Bewleys and the Freemans) went to a concert at Dickie’s Arena in Ft. Worth, to see Chicago with Earth Wind & Fire. Two of the best horn bands ever; together they have sold a combined 190 million albums.
The entire coliseum was full of people that looked like us – Baby Boomers in our 60s. Which means, we tended to stay seated the entire time. That is, until EW&F started playing Boogie Wonderland. AT that point the entire coliseum became a giant disco and all across the arena people leaped to their feet and threw their arms in the air and danced.
My favorite Chicago songs are the complex horn features from the 1960s and 1970s. These are the songs that pulled me into the fold in 1971 and have kept me there ever since then. But I have to admit, I loved hearing the entire arena singing along to the 1980s power ballads (the ones I usually dismiss) as in, Hard to Say I’m Sorry, and If You Leave Me Now.
To my surprise they waited until the concert was almost over before performing one of the most significant songs in my life, Does Anybody Really Know What Time It Is. A song they usually play early in the evening, this time they held it until the third set when both bands were on stage together playing with full joy and energy. I was already standing at that point (not a simple decision since our seats were so high and rows so precipitously steep) and I finished the song with both arms raised high in praise.
Why would I do that?
I’ll tell you why.
I love that song. Not because of the lyrics or the melody are so important, but the circumstances.
I first heard it on the radio in the summer of 1971, long before I owned any Chicago albums, and it was because of what I heard that afternoon that I decided to keep playing my trombone and stay in high school band.
And because I stayed in band, I met Cyndi Richardson in the band hall two years later, in August 1973. And because I kept playing my horn I went to a jazz concert in Denton in the fall of 1976 where Cyndi and I rediscovered each other.
We got married in July 1979; we recently celebrated our 45th anniversary. I don’t believe in fate, as in, Cyndi and I were destined to be together. I do believe strongly that God has a plan for all of us, but I also see a lot of randomness and happenstance when I look back through our timeline. Using my best imagination I can’t think of how we would have met, or be together today, had it not been for that song.
Cyndi played percussion when we met in that band hall, and since then we’ve played together in church orchestras and jazz bands our entire adult lives. It’s one of our deepest common elements and inhabits most of our conversations. Playing music together is a deep root that binds us together. Not only that, but all those years of playing have given us some of our closest friends. We’ve been blessed to be surrounded by fellow musicians; it makes us happy.
Well, when the concert ended, after 3-1/2 hours of high-energy music, there was no encore. Everyone was exhausted. Even the crowd knew both bands had played their hearts out serving us the best of their songs. I was loving every minute, but I was also ready to go. My right arm was tired from playing air trombone for so long.
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Here’s the thing: I’m not really writing about Chicago; I’m writing about the power of music. I’m writing about how some things latch on to your soul so that you wallow in it for decades. Maybe for you it was soccer, or dance, or math, or mountains, or the beach. For me it was music, and Chicago made it happen.
I typically write about God, running, cycling, backpacking, spiritual growth, family, music, and loving Cyndi. And the truth is, I can’t separate those topics. They are woven together, and I don’t care to cut them apart.
I went to the Friday concert, not just to hear the same songs I can listen to any time I want, but to reinforce a 53-year-old life-changing experience that still influences me every day. Music is one of our tightest family ties. Music is one of my deepest spiritual truths. I don’t want to let that slip away.
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“I run in the path of Your commands, for You have set my heart free.” Psalm 119:32
An Unambiguous Statement
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