Can't Stand Losing a Message in a Bottle to Roxanne

Let me begin by making one comment.

Nice guns, Sting. Whoa.

And now, let us flash back approximately 23 years to the Johnson residence in SLC, Utah, one of my first babysitting jobs ever. I was twelve or so. Get this. They had no t.v. Ahhhhh! What was a twelve year old kid to do? The kids were all in bed and I had at least two hours before the parents came home. So, I put on a tape and made up dances to it. Yes, I confess that I was rolling around on the Johnson's living room floor at 9:00 at night, doing some very interesting choreography to the sweet strains of Sting's voice. Hey, I was twelve. And that is where it all began.

I guess I had to tell that story, because that is how deeply the music of the Police is burned in my brain, how much it is a part of the workings of my system. I have listened to them for 2/3rds of my lifetime. So, a few months back, when I was at the Stringham residence one morning, and Shawn started buying tickets for the show, I had to have him get me a pair. I ended up going with that gang, (Stringham, Jardine, Stewart-x-2, Burt, Marsh...) and bringing along my dear friend T.L:



I've never been to Usana Amphitheater before, and I found it to be a great place to watch a show, and a rotten place from which to depart. (Although I did enjoy Charisse's horrible date story while we were waiting to get out of the parking lot...) Anyway,the show started with a little rockin' opener from Elvis Costello, including a cameo duet with Sting:



And then came The Police. Happy days. They look pretty good! Well, Andy Summers is kind of on the froggy-side of looking good, but he sure can play. Stewart Copeland looks better, in a cute cool-grandpa kind of way, and he definitely gets to join the league of drummers who make funny faces. Not that I blame them - drumming looks like some serious effort you know? And Eddie, I don't think you're a funny-face-making-drummer, just so you know. And then there was Sting. Did I mention the guns? Well, anyway, he looked ....uh....just fine.

You know, I love concerts. I don't go much anymore, but I sure did a lot in high school and college, and I was thinking about why I love them so much, especially outside on beautiful summer nights. I love it when the sun goes down and the lights on the stage blare up so you can't really see anything around you but the stage. It makes it kind of personal, like it's just you and the band, and they're singing right to you. You can bounce around a dance any way you want because no one's looking at you, or if they are, who cares. You can sing your guts out along with them because the music's so loud that no one can hear you. I love that I didn't have to listen to any Police before the concert for a lyric review. It's in my bones, baby. I love that there are 15,000 (?) other people there feeling the same excitement and thrill that you are, hearing music they've loved for most of their lives. It was awesome and I wish I could go again tonight.

And on a closing note, I would like to say that my husband also has some very nice guns and I wouldn't even consider trading him in for Sting. Next time Troy puts on a skin-tight black t-shirt, I will have the camera ready.