Dear Hearts and Gentle People

Recently hubby and I went to a live concert at Chastain Park in Atlanta to see the group Chicago perform. Never mind that I'd never heard of them until that week or that hubby would rather be boiled in hot oil than to sit and listen to a rock band most of which are so loud the fillings in your teeth shake.

We were invited guests of friends of ours and, well, when someone invites you to a $60-a-ticket concert free-of-charge and offers to pick you up from your hotel in a limo, you go. I know, the limo was a little cheesy but the hors d'oeuvres served inside it were superb and besides we'd never have found a parking place had we driven ourselves.

Chicago, I found out, is a group of musicians who made it big in the late sixties and, despite a few hip replacements, some major plastic surgery, and a few really cheap toupees, is at the top of the charts again and reappearing on stage for its 40th anniversary this year.

I was absolutely amazed at the number of people, most of them baby boomers, who turned out to see this band. The audience looked like a living Walton Rehab catalog. Gray headed, pot-bellied, and nearsighted 50 and 60 year olds were flocking in by the hundreds anxious to get out of their recliners long enough to relive a few moments of their youth.

Chastain Park is unique in that ticket holders are encouraged to bring portable tables, linens, wine, cheese, and candles and set up little cozy spots all over the arena to watch the show. Since I'm not a wine and cheese kind of gal we opted for diet cokes, bran muffins, and cantelope. In place of a candle we used the pinlight on my car keys.

A group called America opened the show with (I'm told) their first-ever single "A Horse with No Name," recorded back in 1971. I actually recognized it, along with a few others like "Lonely People" and "Sister Golden Hair."

Old geezers like us who probably take arthritis medicine every day were swaying side to side before the opening number was through and, wild woman that I am, I actually found myself clapping my hands a time or two. Rock on!

When Chicago finally took the stage you never saw such pandemonium. Wine bottles were being emptied at a rapid pace and folks were loosening up until the noise from the crowd rivaled that of the band itself. People were back-to-back, shoulder-toshoulder, screaming and gyrating all over the place. And that was just in the bathroom line.

A few more numbers like "A Hard Habit to Break," "Just You 'N Me," and "Wishing You Were Here" and the four couples behind us, totally sloshed, were shrieking, moaning, and nudging us trying to get us to get up and dance.

A simple shake of our heads didn't convince one lady (and I use the term loosely) and before I knew it she had crawled over me and was at my feet, on her knees, mumbling incoherently and yanking on my arm. I hadn't seen behavior like that since I visited a friend in Northside Hospital's psych ward.

Now let me hasten to say that, other than a subtle permeating aroma we couldn't identify, we saw no overt use of illegal drugs at the concert. There was a good bit of pill popping though, but as best I could tell the only pills popped were Tylenol and Pepcid AC.

I remember thinking, what ever happened to Johnny Mathis? Was he still performing? In a nursing home? Dead? I always adored Johnny Mathis. His music was the soundtrack for every date we ever had except for the night we got a little crazy, lost track of time, and went two hours past my midnight curfew. That Tom Jones was a killer.

In all seriousness, I was impressed with the sheer longevity of the guys in Chicago's band. With album sales topping well over $122 million, coupled with 20 Top 10 hits, 5 number one albums, 5 number one singles, 5 Gold Singles, and countless awards and honors, the legendary rock n' roll band remains one of this nation's most critically acclaimed bands in rock history.

The night out was fun, my hearing should return any day now, and being with our aging hipster friends was a hoot. The limo was a bit overthe top but comfortable and the weather couldn't have been any better for gazing at the stars. And hey, it was free. Can't beat that with a stick.

We'd go again. We probably will. I'm already searching the web for "Johnny Mathis concerts." Or, maybe even some other of our old favorites. Shucks, we aren't getting any younger; we might as well live on the wild side while we can, right? Anybody hear from Tom Jones lately?