I have been living a lie my whole life.
I could have sworn that my parents told me that Willie Nelson was my first concert when I was one. When people ask "Hey, what was your first concert?", I say, "Well, I saw ZZ Top in 8th grade, but really Willie Nelson when I was a year old." I know somewhere in my boxes of memories I have a Willie bandana that in my mind's eye, my mother used to wipe spit-up from my chin.
Apparently, I made it all up.
When I planned this leg of my Summer Fun journey, I called my parents to make sure I had the story straight:
Mom: "Well... I think we saw him in East Texas, but I don't remember you being there. Did you ask your dad?"
Dad: "Well, we saw him in Dekalb in '76 and again in California in '77 or '78, but I don't remember you being there. Did you ask your mother?"
I was born in 1970. My world was crashing. Damn good thing I got tickets for this year's Willie Nelson's 4th of July Picnic at The Backyard!
It's somewhat of a tradition and always a good time.
I couldn't even fathom being there for the purported 12 hour minimum of music. I just couldn't do it. I got there at 8, the last song of Randy Rogers' set fading as I walked up. Hated to miss them. Parking had been easy - went in the back way off 71; people probably left during the day because I heard it was full by noon. The very first guy I saw when I walked in was defying the laws of gravity. He was walking... albeit slowly... but leaned back at a 45 degree angle. I honestly don't know how he was moving forward. And then there was this lady:
I have to assume her date did not tell her she was going to an all-day outdoor concert with 7,000 of her closest friends after a week's worth of torrential rain. But I'm just guessing. There was a lady in tights (?!?!) and several chicks in heels. I tried to get a picture of the man in a skirt. Not a kilt; a skirt. I kept praying he wouldn't drop anything in front of me and bend over.
A quick walk around the new layout reinforced that I was glad I had eaten before I came and that I was not going to drink so I wouldn't have to use the port-o-potties. Holy. Crap. Those were some long lines.
I camped out by the sound board, a recycling bin and another single lady (yeah, I couldn't find a single soul to go with me after my dear sweet friend Mama T had to back out... I know! No one!). Pretty good view and lots of good people watching because I was by a path: happy drunks, old timers with canes, scantily clad women who should not be scantily clad and, I never thought I'd say this, but I don't want to see another shirtless man for awhile. Things I overheard: "It took me an hour and a half to get bratwurst.", "Don't go get water unless you want to lose your shoes.", "They ran out of food and we've been drinking since noon!" and the classic, "...it's not like the old days when they just handed out drugs." None of what I encountered can top what happened to my friend Robin one year though. She had imbibed too much in the hot sun and was taking a little nap on her blanket when she awoke to a very drunk woman with tan leathery buttocks (how did she know this? Because she was wearing only a fringe thong bikini and cowboy boots) screaming "Fuck you! Fuck yooouuu!!" at her since she was asleep during the National Anthem. Priceless.
Heard some dude I don't remember (sorry dude) and then Jack Ingram (sorry, not a fan of the "new" Jack) and then Kris Kristofferson... I was so glad I hadn't missed him. Fantastic songwriter, but boy, he sounded old, even for 74. Next up Ray Price... wow! He sounded amazing! And he's 84! So fun. (The whole time I thought about when my NaNa went to John T. Floore Country Store to see him. My step-dad took her out to see where his bus was and she parked herself in front of the bus door and said she "wasn't leaving until she met Ray Price; she was a long time fan and had all his records". She was 72. After several "The show's about the start, he's busy, etc, etc" the bodyguard went up into the bus and in a few minutes, a gold-jeweled hand swept out and motioned for her to come on in. She emerged triumphant with a signed poster and the show went on. Way to go, NaNa!) There were some fireworks off in the distance at some point - that was fun. Then came Leon Russell - where has he been all my life?! I loved it! And then lots of talk of "Willie's up next, blah, blah, blah", but out came The Reflectacles (with Willie's son Micah, no less). What a major let down. Throw in Gail Swanson (total buzz-kill; she played a flute) and the crowd was chanting "Willie! Willie! Willie!" the whole set. Bad, bad planning on the promoters part even if he is Willie's son. So finally... finally! Willie joins them with a slew of friends to sing a song or two. And the crowd goes wild! Then it's down to business, just him and his band. Doing what they do. Willie was off tempo and out of tune a little sometimes, but ding dang it, they're awesome. He's Willie-freakin'-Nelson for crying out loud and he can do what he wants!
Oh and did I mention that he didn't come on until 12:05am?!?!? Oh yeah. Even more glad I hadn't shown up until 8. But by that point the all-dayers had left, the crowd had thinned out and it was awesome. He played for a full hour and a half! I caught myself clapping unconsciously and grinning like an idiot... and I was sober! It was a great show. Even if it was 39 years too late.
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