O Death

Denyse and I went to see Ralph Stanley on Saturday night at St. Francis of Assisi church. They have been putting on shows there for the last year or so. Justin Townes Earle was there the night before. They have have a new priest and he's trying to bring in a different, cooler, hipper, happening, swinging, younger??? crowd. The new church, not just for praying. Tap your toe  and open your soul. Well, it's the same crowd, they're just drunk on micro-brews in a church basement now. These are the same people I used to see when I was a kid going to the church carnival, trying to win a goldfish that will be dead by nightfall, going for another stuffed octopus, or letting it all ride on the cake wheel. You're not just getting drunk, you're helping the church. It's a win win. We got there a little late, about 7:45, the show was at 8, so were in the back near the rabble. We were surrounded by middle aged people who, before they started having kids, were weekend warriors, still going out on the weekends with their old college friends, having dinner and drinks, and went out regularly to show's, (somebody's going to see Bob Seger, those Eagles tickets will not buy themselves). Now they can see a show without going to a nightclub and staying out late. And they get to drink and support the church, a thrill usually reserved for tailgating at the St. X-Trinity game. (Didn't I see you blowing chow outside the St. James fish fry?) We're all having a great time until somebody starts to hurl. They're wearing their sweater vests from Valhalla, or their starched Ralph Lauren button down shirts. Casual but dressy. Or their shirt/sweater with the name on it (insert company or school name here, St Raphaels, Callahan, Derby City Landfill). I'm hanging out with my parents friends except we're all the same age now. Yikes.

To be continued...