A Rural Wedding

The site of the wedding I attended in Walcott, Iowa.  Photo by J. Berta.

Greetings All:

I had a wonderful experience recently.  My family and I were invited to a rural wedding in Walcott, Iowa.  For those of you who are not local, Walcott is a farming community not far from where we live.  Dawn, my wife, is a Chiropractor.  One of her patients was kind enough to invite her to her wedding.  Simply put, we had a great time.

I love weddings.  I have had the good fortune to attend ones of all degrees of formality.  I'd be a liar and a hypocrite to say I don't enjoy dressing up, I do.  Dawn and I make it a point to do at least a couple of formal events a year.

Still, I am a t-shirt/shorts and or jeans/sweatshirt kind of guy, climate directing.  So when I heard this was a "come comfortable, it's summer after all" wedding, I was all in.  

We arrived at the reception site and then were whisked by hay rack to the ceremony site at an actual, authentic farm.  The opening photo is where the ceremony was held.  What a gorgeous backdrop for an amazing ceremony.

 

Dawn, Cassie & Carly on the hay rack awaiting the tracker ride to the ceremony.  Photo by J. Berta.

As we arrived, there were two musicians, one playing a guitar, the other singing.  Prior to the ceremony, children ran, spreading their laughter with all of us.  I was pleased to see my old friend John perform the ceremony.  He's a lawyer by training and performed his task with a reverence worthy of any judge or man of the cloth.

The bride wore a lovely white gown.  There were no attendants, just the two of them.  Or, perhaps another way to look at it is this:  All of us were in the wedding party.  That is the feel this event had to it. 

I do not believe that a wedding has to be formal to be meaningful. This was a simple, yet wonderfully authentic affair and I was glad to be a guest at it.

We returned to the reception site and feasted on traditional Iowa fare.  In the back of an old pick up truck was plenty of beer.  The band, after being introduced by the bride, rocked the crowd well into the night.  We declined to dance the night away, yet still had a ton of fun.

I'll wrap up this post returning to my opening comments about the rural setting of this wedding.  While I live in Iowa, it is in a city.  Well, not a city in the sense of a New York or Chicago.  More like one of their suburbs with less traffic.  Yet everything is paved and and modern.  

Where this wedding was held was clearly out of the city.  It was where pavement gives way to gravel and dirt roads.  Where office buildings and strip malls are replaced by barns and farm houses.  As we rode (by hay rack) to the ceremony, we were surrounded by endless ears of corn.  They were straight and green, stretching towards the sky.  Corn is one of the things that Iowa is best known for.  It is food.  Food is life.  Without farms, there is no food, no life.  Farms are where soil and seed become one to create something greater than the sum of their parts.  

In many ways, it is similar to a wedding.  So where better to have a wedding than on a farm?  Where better indeed?

At the reception area there were a series of vintage trackers.  It was a great backdrop for photos.  Some could not resist the temptation to pose on them.  And, yes, I was one of them.
 

Your author hanging out on the tracker before the ceremony.  Photo by J. Berta.

They don't have this as a backdrop at the Hamptons, I'll assure you of that!

So here's to this wonderful rural wedding and hearty congrats to the bride and groom.  Thanks for letting us be a part of your special day in a most special background.

Be well my friends,
Jeno

The Bix 7

My shoes, timer and bib from the 2015 Bix 7 Run.  Photo by J. Berta

Greetings All:

Last Saturday was the 41st running of the Quad Cities Bix 7 road race.  I did not have plans to run the whole thing, originally opting to do the "Quick Bix," the 2 mile race.  That would have been the intelligent thing to do, seeming how I had (ahem) failed to train at all for this event.  

For those of you not familiar with the "Bix 7," here's a bit of history:  The race came about 41 years ago after a local resident ran the Boston Marathon and was inspired to start a race here in town.  "Here in town" for those of you who are not locals is Davenport, Iowa. 

Originally, the race was part of the jazz festival in honor of the local son, Leon Bismark "Bix" Beiderbecke.  A phenomenally talented jazz musician, Beiderbecke was also a chronic alcoholic who succumbed to the fate of many artists who could not deal with their demons.  He was dead at 28.  A sad fate, to be sure.

And then his music was all but forgotten.  Then, as often happens to the past, folks decide it is worth remembering.  That is where the jazz festival comes into play.  Back some 40+ years ago, a group of jazz fans got together and started the Bix Jazz Festival.  It became well known and if your into that type of music, it was a great event.  Even if you were not, then it's still a summer street party and who doesn't like that?  

The run started as a sideshow to the jazz festival.  That did not last long.  From a field of 80-some runners the first year, now it is pushing 12,000 to 16,000 runners and walkers.  It is considered a premiere road race and I've heard it is the biggest non-marathon in the Midwest.  I've got some citations below to the race if you'd like more information on it.  

Now, as to my "participation" in it this year.  My original plan was to run the "Quick Bix," a two-mile race that lets runners participate in the run up Brady Street (a fairly challenging hill) and then get to the post-race party with various refreshments.  One of my friends commented last year, "I did the Quick Bix and there was no line for the beer!"  

As I mentioned, that was my plan.  That actually made sense as I had (ahem) not trained.  That morning, as I was slugging coffee and sipping water, I was loading up songs on my iPhone.  I realized that even with my lumbering pace, there was no way I'd get to even half of these songs if I just did two miles.  So I left myself open to a "game day decision" about running the whole thing.

As the race started and Bob Mould's "The War" blasted through my earbuds, I was on the fence about turning off for the shorter race.  What to do?

Then, I made the decision.  "Fuck it," I said to myself.  Who knows, I might have even said it out loud.  (Like anyone would have heard me or cared.)  So I ran the whole thing.

I didn't win.

No, in fact, my time was a "blazing" 1:40:56 by my official score in the paper.  Here's what my watch said as I huffed across the finish line:

My "unofficial" time.  Photo by J. Berta

So even though I was really, really slow, I had a great time at the race.  I got to experience the whole event.  I made it a point to fist bump (as I was a sweaty mess) my friend Ken who was blocking off a street with his Harley Davidson.  I got a hose sprayed on me, said hi to friends on the path, blew a kiss at the Marilyn Monroes on the route (and got one blown back at me, thank you very much) and even managed to sprint that last...oh quarter mile.  In other words, I got the whole experience.

I even got a photo with these guys...

"The Kings and I," photo by J. Berta

My point is this:  When in doubt, chase the experience.  Be smart, of course.  I ran very slow and like to think I would have stopped had my body told me to.  Yet at the same time, I think we talk ourselves out of doing things, a LOT of things, because we're afraid of what could happen, what could go wrong.  We worry what others might think, that they will laugh or mock us for trying.  

To hell with them and all the other cynics, critics, naysayers and general buzz-killers.  If you want to do something that involves a challenge, yet offers a reward, then do it.  The Marines have a great saying:  "Pain is temporary."  They're right.

So next year, I hope to see you at Bix, if you're in town.  If you're not ready to run it, that's fine, walk it.  If you're not ready for the full 7 miles, do the Quick Bix.  Of course, check with your physician and Chiropractor (you do have both, right?) before training.  Ah yes, training.  

I think I'll do that for next year.  I know I can do better, if only to get down to "double digits" in minutes.  And I'll have that experience to write about in this blog.
 
Be well my friends,
Jeno

This blog post is dedicated to my friend Ken and the countless other volunteers who make the Bix 7 the wonderful event it is, thanks.




Sources:

http://bix7.com/2015/

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bix_7_Road_Race

http://www.billrodgersrunningcenter.com/stbix725an.html 

http://www.bixsociety.org/bio.html

http://drunkard.com/issues/02_05/02-05_all-that-jazz.htm 

http://jazztrumpetproject.blogspot.com/2013/10/the-death-of-bix-beiderbecke.html

The Real Winners

One of our tickets from this year's John Deere Classic.  Photo by J. Berta

Greetings All:

Silvis, Illinois, July 12, 2015, a golf course.

Two men stare down a field of grass, precisely cut.  
It is warm, no it's hot.  Ugly hot.  
The humidity hangs in the air, holding the breeze hostage.

Thousands of people, not a sound.
Then, the silence is broken, with a "CRACK!"

Metal meets plastic, a ball is freed from the tee.
For a few moments, that ball is all that matters to those watching.
From the fairways,
From TVs,
And most importantly, from the tee.

The playoff is on!
One will win, bask in brief glory.
Then he'll be off on a jet, a special jet.
All paid for by a corporate giant.

The other, will lose.  
Back home.  No glory, no plane ride.
Yet a nice check nonetheless.

Then, it ends.  The tournament is over.  The crowd disperses.  It is over.

But it's not.
Not the most important thing.

Not the winner, not the glory.
Not the moment in the sun for our community.
Not the crowds, or the fun.
Or the free beer and hot dogs inside the hospitality tents.

No, none of that.

What matters are the real winners.
The charities that will reap the rewards of this event.

The real winners are Birdies for Charity.

So the 2015 John Deere Classic (JDC) Golf Tournament is in the books  Jordan Spieth came back to win his second trophy here and is now teeing up (that was bad, sorry) his plan to win The British Open.  He was advised by many NOT to play the JDC and instead get some more rounds in at St. Andrews.  In all fairness, that is not exactly an easy place to play and The British Open is a bigger deal than our little tourney.  However, Spieth made good on a promise to come back here and play.  And play he did.

The tournament is a big deal in our community and lots of folks come out and enjoy it.  Many local businesses and organizations host hospitality tents.  The "Holy Grail" is the John Deere Tent on the 18th green.  You need a special pass to get in there.

I did not have one of those.

That's OK.  I was able to get into the Association of the United States Army (AUSA) tent on the 15th green.  Thanks to AUSA and Lowe's, there was a great tent where there was what I'll call "tailgate" food and beverages.  However, the "main attraction" was the American flag on the green and the way it was respectfully replaced into the hole.  Simply put, a class act.  I was glad I got to witness it.

AUSA's banner outside the 15th green, photo by J. Berta.

So let' recap:  The JDC is a great golf tourney and fun is had by all.  Oh, and I forgot the nearly 2,000 volunteers who come out and make this event possible.  Yet the real winners, as I've alluded to earlier, are the charities that benefit from this wonderful concept called, "Birdies For Charity."  

In a nutshell, Birdies for Charity is a way for the community to support the various charitable endeavors and organizations that make these events happen.  I am proud that my Rotary Group is part of this endeavor.

Now, you might ask, "Just what is this thing, Birdies for Charity?"  Good question.  Here's the scoop:

Individuals can guess the number of birdies that will be tallied during the JDC.  The winner get a prize.  For the rest of us, we pledge an amount (one cent, two cents, ect) per birdie recorded.  You write a check for your amount ($20.00-$200.00, whatever the amount) and you can direct it goes to a particular cause.  John Deere covers all the admin costs.  This is from the JDC website, link below:

"Since 1971 the John Deere Classic has delivered over $60 million to regional charities, most of it through its innovative Birdies for Charity program. No other event on the PGA TOUR does it better - and it’s the generous and hardworking nature of this area that makes it happen."

It is an amazing program.  It is one that keeps money local.  It is one that just about everyone can participate in at some level.  And folks have a great time in the process.  

While only one person can be the champion of the JDC, there are many real winners.  What a wonderful event.  

I cannot wait until next year.
 
Be well my friends,
Jeno

p.s. File this under "coming attractions."  I have a post about a recent controversy and a local connection to it.  It is a post I have been working on for a while now.  Part of the delay is my own laziness.  The other part is that this post has evolved both in writing and in my head.  I hope you will like it.  I also hope it will cause you to think about how you approach issues and see the many layers underneath them, especially the complicated and hard ones.

Sources:

http://johndeereclassic.com/

https://birdiesforcharity.com/

Would I Pick It Up?

The Declaration of Independence, Public Domain.

Greetings All:

Happy 4th of July weekend.  For those of us in America, this is both a historic and fun holiday weekend.  Unlike Memorial Day with its appropriate somberness, the 4th of July is a time to let loose, have fun and enjoy, of course fireworks.  What a great time for all.

All, that is, except for some of our Veterans.  For some, for many, actually, fireworks are not something to be enjoyed, simply endured.  I talked to a friend today who has served our country beyond honorably and he is one of these patriots.  If you see one of these signs, please respect these wishes:

Credit:  Veteran Yard Signs, fair use claimed, full cite below and please, check out this website!

As to the actual reason for the holiday, the opening photo is the reason.  Back in 1776, we told King George III that we were done.  We're breaking up and going our own way.  This was not a minor thing.  Even after Paul Revere's Ride, the "Shot Heard 'Round The World," and open rebellion, there were those who thought, even hoped, reconciliation with Mother England was possible.  

By July of 1776, no more.  By issuing the Declaration of Independence, we did the Eighteenth Century version of "un-friending" England.  It was, in my opinion, the event that forever changed the course of history.

I suspect you're familiar with the story of John Hancock, who signed his name with a flourish and in large print  The rumor (supposedly debunked) is that he signed it so big so that, "The King George III could read it and know whom to hang..." (or words to that effect.)  From my admittedly brief research, there is not sufficient evidence to support this claim.  Still, it's a good story.

John Hancock's signature on The Declaration of Independence, public domain

Hancock was one of the wealthiest men in the colonies and his service to our early nation is worthy of our gratitude.  However, he did not suffer great personal loss for the act of signing the Declaration and publicly supporting the revolt.  This was not the case for many others who signed their name

 I have a link below from snopes.com that discusses the fates of many who signed their names to this document.  It is interesting to me that some tales of suffering and hardship suffered by those who signed the Declaration have been exaggerated or are simply incorrect.  Still, it is true that many of those who signed this document suffered personal and significant loss.

It raises the question:  Would I sign this document?  I like to think I would. I like to think I would have said, "Hey there, John Hancock, save some space for the rest of us!"  I like to think that I would have agreed with all the grievances outlined in the document and would have said, "Hey guys, we left a bunch of stuff out!"  

But would I have?  Would I have picked up the pen and signed my name to the Declaration of Independence?  Keep in mind that all the men (and they all were men, white men, men of some degree of means, mostly wealthy) who signed this document knew, had to know, that their lives of comfort, privilege, financial abundance was jeopardized, if not forever ruined.  They signed it anyways.

I can argue, rationalize and generally arrive at the conclusion that why yes,...yes I would have signed the Declaration and let the chips fall where they may.  

Yet the honest truth is I will never know for sure.  After all, I was not there.  I get to enjoy with my family the most practical application of Jefferson's words, the "...unalienable Rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness."

So I suppose the best I can do today is tip my hat to those who did sign this document and endeavor to conduct myself in a manner that honors the intent of these immortal words.  Oh, and we're also going to catch the parade.  After all, "the pursuit of happiness" was not put in the Declaration of Independence by accident.  

Happy 4th of July all, happy birthday America!

Be well my friends,
Jeno



Sources:

http://www.cafepress.com/+veteran+yard-signs

http://www.archives.gov/exhibits/charters/declaration_transcript.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Hancock

http://www.snopes.com/history/american/pricepaid.asp

$7.00 an Hour and...

My farewell gift from my summer job in 1993.  Photo by J. Berta

Greetings All:

Twenty-two years ago, I had the best summer job ever.  It was far from financially lucrative.  In fact, it was an incredibly modest $7.00 an hour and all the coffee I could drink.  Keep in mind I was a college graduate and well into my second degree.  One might wonder why this would be such a great summer job?  Well my friends, I am about to tell you.

During the summer of 1993, I was a prosecuting intern with the Scott County, Iowa Attorney's Office.  Under Iowa law, I was able to perform a variety of tasks under the "supervision" of the prosecution staff.  For the serious (felony) crimes, I was strictly on the sidelines.  However, for misdemeanors, especially simple misdemeanor, we had the run of the place.  By the place, I mean the courthouse.

It was nirvana.  If you're in law school and want to get into court, this was the best job to have the summer before your third and final year of law school.  Within a month of being on the job we (my other two interns and I) were in charge of the simple misdemeanor calendar.  We were in court, trying cases!

Now, when I say, "in court," it was not one of the more formal courtrooms upstairs, lined with painting of former judges, with the dais from which district court judges announced decisions and fates of the convicted.  This was the board of supervisors room.  There was no court reporter and the judge was a magistrate.  And yet the rules were as real as those upstairs.  It was real court with, at times, real defense attorneys.  We did not win all the time (especially when a more experienced attorney was on the other side) but the whole experience was great.  And while neither my ego or I appreciated at the time, the losses were more instructive than the wins.

The County Attorney at the time was Bill Davis.  Bill was personable and truly wanted us to have a great summer.  He wanted us to learn.  I knew him from previous political events and enjoyed having him as a distant boss.  I say distant not in a bad way, just an accurate one.  He was, after all, the county attorney, and delegated our "upbringing" to his subordinates.  

However, he did take time to counsel me on my wardrobe choices.  He told me, "Stop dressing better than the lawyers."  I thought he was kidding.  I guess he wasn't when he told me a second time. Sorry Bill, just could not help myself.  It wasn't like I had custom made suits, I just had my shirts starched and took advantage of the discount stores in the Twin Cities where I was going to school.  I am now at a point in my life where getting dressed up is far less important.  Back then, it was a big deal for me.  A very big deal.

One thing about the summer that I did not expect was the interaction I had with the public.  I learned pretty quick just how charmed a life I had lived up until that point.  Several times a day, individuals would walk in to file complaints.  One of my personal favorites was the woman who walked into the County Attorney's Office and wanted to file charges against someone who had failed to honor their business transaction.  A transaction for the purchase of $20.00 of crack cocaine.  The woman was not even that upset, she just wanted her $20.00 back.  

Then there were the less humorous ones, downright depressing, actually.  I recall sitting with a victim of domestic violence who refused to testify against her abuser.  She was more terrified of him going to jail and losing his job than of him flying into an alcoholic-fused rage and beating her.  I think it was then that I realized this job had a dark and downside to it.  I remember driving home that day, heading back to my parents' place and wondering just what type of hell on earth that women was heading back to with her boyfriend...recently sprung from jail.

When the summer ended, I received a farewell gift, the mug featured in the opening photo.  I have kept that mug and used it in just about every office I have had since I became a "real" lawyer.  It is a great pen holder.  Every now and then, I read the inscription and recall what a wonderful summer, on average, it was for me.  I might have only earned $7.00 an hour but I learned an immeasurable amount about the law, the system and myself.  That was worth it.  Oh, and the free coffee was appreciated as well.

Be well my friends,
Jeno

This post is dedicated to the memory of Don Frank.  Don was an Assistant County Attorney who passed away a few years' ago.  He was a fine attorney and a better person.  

More Than A Place

My home, photo by J. Berta.

Greetings All:

I'm going to do something a bit different with this blog post and talk about a new professional endeavor I have begun.  I'm now a licensed real estate agent.  I am still practicing law, just in a more focused way.

My real estate "career" began a few months ago, when I got introduced to my friends at Exit Realty.  Exit is new in town and this was an opportunity to get involved with as close to a real estate "start up" as one can get.  More importantly, the people I am working with, learning from and spending time with are those who share my values.  I think I'm quite fortunate to have landed where I did.

I am going to be doing some writing about this subject on my real estate blog.  I'll have a link to it here and I'd welcome your thoughts on it.  For now, I just want to share a few thoughts I have about the "why" behind the virtue of real estate.

When I talk about virtue and real estate, I am not talking about the purely economic benefits of owning real estate.  Please do not think I am dismissing such benefits.  Far from it, I view such benefits as beyond beneficial at the mirco and macro levels.  Property ownership in general and single family home ownership in particular is essential to our economy.  From the folks who build homes to those who furnish them and yes, those who sell them, all earn their living from being involved in the process of home ownership.

Then there is commercial real estate.  This is defined (loosely) as anything that is not residential, or the traditional, single family home (white, picket fence optional).  This is the area that I have elected to concentrate my practice.  When you consider how huge small business is to the growth and sustainability of our economy, it is irrefutable how huge these companies are to our nation's overall economic well-being.

How huge, you might ask.  Well, thanks to our friends at the Small Business and Entrepreneurship Council (citing to the Small Business Administration, (SBA), in part) here's some facts:

"In 2011, according to U.S. Census Bureau data, there were 5.68 million employer firms in the United States.  Firms with fewer than 500 workers accounted for 99.7 percent of those businesses, and businesses with less than 20 workers made up 89.8 percent. Add in the number of nonemployer firms – there were 22.7 million in 2012 – and the share of U.S. businesses with less than 500 workers increases to 99.9 percent, and firms with less than 20 workers increases to 98 percent.  Among employer C Corporations in 2011, 99.2 percent had less than 500 workers, and 86.4 percent had fewer than 20 employees.

 

- See more at: http://www.sbecouncil.org/about-us/facts-and-data/#sthash.C4Tacu4U.dpuf"

http://www.sbecouncil.org/about-us/facts-and-data/

All of these facts are important, critical even.  However, I see an even larger aspect of real estate.  This is something that transcends the tangible benefits that come from an "improved" piece of property.  It is what a place becomes when people spend time in it.  Be it a place they live or work (or in this economy, both), it is where their lives happen.  

 

A while ago, Jimmy Buffett wrote a song, "Love in the Library,"  off of his Fruitcakes CD.  I remember one line:

"So write your own ending and hope it comes true."

For many, owning their own home (OK, even if the bank/mortgage company is a silent partner) or business is the ending they strive for.  True, in the last few years for some/many, that dream has dissovled.  And yet, for many more, that ending does come true.  I know it has for my family and I.  I offer the photograph at the beginning of this post as Exhibit A.

So my friends, real estate is more than a place.  For me, as begin this new chapter in my life, I am excited and honored to play a role in helping people find a house, a building, a lot, a fill-in-the-blank where they can make their own magic happen, make their own endings come true.

Now how's that for a dream job?

Be well my friends,

Jeno 

 

In 2011, according to U.S. Census Bureau data, there were 5.68 million employer firms in the United States.  Firms with fewer than 500 workers accounted for 99.7 percent of those businesses, and businesses with less than 20 workers made up 89.8 percent. Add in the number of nonemployer firms – there were 22.7 million in 2012 – and the share of U.S. businesses with less than 500 workers increases to 99.9 percent, and firms with less than 20 workers increases to 98 percent.
Among employer C Corporations in 2011, 99.2 percent had less than 500 workers, and 86.4 percent had fewer than 20 employees.
- See more at: http://www.sbecouncil.org/about-us/facts-and-data/#sthash.C4Tacu4U.dpuf

In 2011, according to U.S. Census Bureau data, there were 5.68 million employer firms in the United States.  Firms with fewer than 500 workers accounted for 99.7 percent of those businesses, and businesses with less than 20 workers made up 89.8 percent. Add in the number of nonemployer firms – there were 22.7 million in 2012 – and the share of U.S. businesses with less than 500 workers increases to 99.9 percent, and firms with less than 20 workers increases to 98 percent.
Among employer C Corporations in 2011, 99.2 percent had less than 500 workers, and 86.4 percent had fewer than 20 employees.
- See more at: http://www.sbecouncil.org/about-us/facts-and-data/#sthash.C4Tacu4U.dpuf

In 2011, according to U.S. Census Bureau data, there were 5.68 million employer firms in the United States.  Firms with fewer than 500 workers accounted for 99.7 percent of those businesses, and businesses with less than 20 workers made up 89.8 percent. Add in the number of nonemployer firms – there were 22.7 million in 2012 – and the share of U.S. businesses with less than 500 workers increases to 99.9 percent, and firms with less than 20 workers increases to 98 percent.
Among employer C Corporations in 2011, 99.2 percent had less than 500 workers, and 86.4 percent had fewer than 20 employees.
- See more at: http://www.sbecouncil.org/about-us/facts-and-data/#sthash.C4Tacu4U.dpuf

Once a Year

My e-ticket stub from last night's Jimmy Buffett concert.  Photo by J. Berta

Greetings All:

Last night, I got together with a few great friends and we saw Jimmy Buffett play in St. Louis last night.  I have a link to the show's review below in the sources.  Simply put, it was a great show and we certainly got our money's worth.

Jimmy Buffett is a genre unto himself in popular music.  Originally denied the Nashville acceptance he craved, he instead headed south to Key West.  From a few party hits, he has grown into his own entertainment industry.  Restaurants, tequila, beer, merchandise, a recording label, an online radio station, books and the list goes on to all things Buffett.  He even nailed his first music industry award with his song (with Alan Jackson), "It's five-o'clock somewhere."  

Yet it is the Buffett concert that is his trademark, his calling card.  It is a celebration of his music and lifestyle.  It's goofy fun, complete with beach balls bouncing through the crowd.

However, a Buffett show is more than just what goes on inside the venue.  The parking lot is turned into a tailgate atmosphere that would make any SEC fan (and Buffett did attend Auburn) nod in approval.   By the time the parking lot was opened for the "pre-concert activities" there was a line out to the access road.

Buffett fans are unique.  They have earned the nickname, "Parrotheads."  Supposedly, the name was born in 1985 (please see article below) and stuck wonderfully.  I recall (yet cannot find the citation) that Esquire magazine referred to "Parrotheads" as, "Deadheads with MBAs."  That sounds about right.  

However, the thousands of fans surpass any one category.  As I watched the crowds in the parking lot and at the concert, I saw multiple generations represented.  Considering Buffett has been going strong across five decades, it is not a stretch to see four generations of a family enjoying the fun.

And yes, there is fun to be had.  There were makeshift bars with portable blenders whipping up various concoctions.  To quote Buffett's trademark song, "Margaritaville,"  "...there's booze in the blender..."

Yet while there were ample adult beverages being enjoyed by the crowd., it was not a drunken mob.  I saw well-behaved folks having fun.  I saw brats exchanged for home made Margaritas and a general sense of good cheer and fellowship.  If there was one sound that dominated the parking lot, it would have to be laughter.

A Buffett concert is more than just Boat Drinks and Cheeseburgers in Paradise.  It is a chance for people to put aside their cares and forget about the daily grind for a few hours.  It was well worth the five hour drive to experience it.

At a Buffett concert, such rules are relaxed.  Photo by J. Berta.

 I try to get to a Buffett concert once a year.  It's a "guys' trip."  I consider myself fortunate that I am still in contact with friends I have known since college, in some cases, further back.  We get together, have a few beverages of our choice, and re-tell the same stories that elicit the same guaranteed roaring laughter it did at the first telling.  

We're all older, much older now.  We've got the tell-tale signs of being way-North of 40.  I don't say this out of angst.  I would not want to go back to my 20s or 30s.  I fully comprehend I am a damn lucky guy and was glad to get home and see my family this afternoon.  Still, it is time well-spent to get together with people who matter to you.  The Buffett concert just adds to the enjoyment.

One of the last songs of the night was "Southern Cross."  Originally done by Crosby, Stills & Nash, Buffett has worked it into his song list and it is a crowd favorite.  It is fast becoming my favorite song he performs.

One line in particular sticks with me:

"I have my ship and all her flags are a' flyin'..."

When that was played last night, I remember feeling quite wonderful.  I am usually not an "in the moment" guy.  Yet last night, at that time, I was.  For that, I was grateful.

The concert ended and we headed back to the parking lot.  As we walked back, I realized that it would almost certainly be another year before I had this experience.  I did experience a moment of melancholy.  Then it passed.  I knew I had this experience, with my friends.  This mattered to me.  Even if it was only a few hours and even if it was only once a year.  

And once a year is enough.

Be well my friends,
Jeno

Sources:
 
http://www.stltoday.com/entertainment/music/reviews/jimmy-buffett-brings-his-island-infused-rock-to-hollywood-casino/article_f7f2686d-2c33-55dc-ae16-54b2135cc0bb.html 

http://islandjay.com/blog/what-is-a-parrot-head-how-did-jimmy-buffett-help/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jimmy_Buffett 

http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/crosbystillsnash/southerncross.html