Moments of Sisterly Companionship

Paramore

Moments of Sisterly Companionship

In 1986 or ’87, in the middle of the summer, I jumped into a 1977 Buick Skylark – my car – and drove from my home to Fort Collins, Colorado.  It wasn’t a college tour or visit – not the scholarly kind – it was a visit to my brother, who was in college.

It’s a big thing for a kid, 16 or 17-years-old, to be able to jump into the car and be trusted by your parents to make an eight hour trek across a couple states.  That’s no small thing.  In my era there were no cell phones, it was simply go and call when you go there.  Now . . . god help you if you didn’t call.

So it was that tonight, as I write, my two daughters – one almost twenty and the other fifteen – are on their way to Concord to see one of my 15-year-old’s favorite bands.  That’s their picture up there on top.  It’s kind of funny, actually, as I remember the first record this band, Paramore, put out.  We all lived in Texas and that 15-year-old wasn’t old enough to even know who this band was.  That’s okay, though, as music is pretty-much ageless in my mind.

I could have taken her myself, certainly.  Hannah, my middle child, has been to concerts.  We went to see The Who together.  This was as much for me as for her, though my daughter’s punk sensibilities wouldn’t likely exist if it weren’t for Pete Townshend and company.  Still . . . I didn’t want to be the buzzkill Dad who was there marginally enjoying what is good music but not connecting with it in the way that everyone else, half my age in the audience, was as well.

But the two girls, who I knew would have an immensely good time, went two hours away and had a blast.

Still . . . technology is a tether, after all, and I texted around 7pm, the time of the concert start, and asked if they’d arrived.  Once assured they were safe I watched the TV and fixed lunches, baked some cookies, resigned to the fact that tomorrow morning I’m not going to go for a run.  I anticipate about a midnight arrival.

But the pictures and the texts were worth the cost of admission.

This wasn’t just for two sisters to have some fun together.  This was a reward.  Hannah, my middle child, is a wonderful kid.  Even more, she’s taken on immense responsibility.  Each day she watches her twin brothers – much to all three’s dismay – and does so until I get home at 6 or 6:30 every evening.  I make dinner, watch them the rest of the night, all that.  But until then, this is a large amount of responsibility and she’s shouldered it.

So when the tickets were available to see this tour it was worth it.  The seats, she says, were amazing.  The show, she said, was amazing.

Reward was worthwhile, even while she begins the responsibility again starting next week.

If she gets some time alone to have fun with her sister, then so be it.  The entire thing was worth it.  This is what I did as a kid, went to concerts in other cities with my older brother.  I’m glad, even if inadvertently, I’m carrying on the tradition with my own kids.

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