For sure, she wanted to go to the Gersh-
win concert at the symphony, so he
bought the tickets on-line and indicated
that they would pick up the tickets at
the box office and then they proceeded
to forget all about the date until he
happened to browse through archived e-
mails on the Sunday morning of the two
p.m. concert and noticed what they had
forgotten. They had just enough time for
a bike ride on a new route around town
before showering and heading downtown.
At a Sunday afternoon concert they could
be assured of seeing a sea of blue hairs,
tripod footed canes and walkers. They
reassured each other that they were
still a long way away from that demo-
graphic, sat in the nosebleed section
and breathed a sigh of affirmation for
their exercise, relief for not having
missed the concert and anticipation of
the music. An inspired Cuban Overture
set the tone and sandwiched between that
and Rhapsody in Blue and An American
in Paris were sweet songs and lovely
ballads like “Nice Work If You Can Get It”
and “Somebody Loves Me.” He was glad
he had scanned his e-mail archive and
happy she was listening to some of her
favorite music. He didn’t know what
was going through her mind as she listen-
ed intently, but he, while sitting next to
the one he loves, was transported back to
flashing memories of his childhood and
seeing his mom and dad dance in the
living room to Mantovani playing Gersh-
win when those folks weren’t fighting with
each other. And he carefully wiped away
the tear so she wouldn’t notice when he
heard “Someone to Watch Over Me” and
thought about his late wife and how they
danced in the living room when they were-
n’t fighting with each other. Just before
the baton fell with the end of the final
soaring note and the crowd erupted with
shouts, whistles and applause, he reached
over and squeezed his wife’s hand.