Twenty-five years ago, I was a junior in high school. I had braces on my teeth, and a boyfriend named Tim. He took me to the Rock Superbowl at the stadium to see The Police, my favorite band. It was my first rock concert. It was a big deal, too; The Police were huge superstars, and Martha Quinn from MTV was there. The opening acts were Eric Burdon and the Animals (did I spell that right?) and Bryan Adams, but everyone was really there to see The Police.
There were over ten thousand people there, I'm sure. The stadium was packed. People were singing along and holding up their cigarette lighters. I was thrilled. I bought a T-shirt, which I still hung on to until just a few years ago, when it was disintegrating.
Well, The Police reunited a couple of years ago, and did a world tour. When they came to town then, the tickets were way too expensive, so we didn't go. But this time, apparently their final tour together, the tickets were a bit more affordable (at least the cheap seats), so we went. It was my Mother's Day present.
Very similar. An outdoor venue, with over ten thousand people in attendance. People singing along and holding up their cigarette lighters. All the old songs. The band was amazing.
I never imagined THEN that I'd see The Police again in 25 years, as a homeschooling mom. (I happened to have a homeschool catalog in my purse last night. I thought it was funny when the security person had to look through my purse. I bet I was the only one there with a Veritas Press catalog.) Twenty-five years is a long time. How did it go by already?
We joked about seeing The Police again in another 25 years. Stewart Copeland will be 90 years old then, and I think Sting will be 80. We'll see if my new T-shirt is still in good condition then.
