I have reached a point in my life in which my calendar is often filled with ever recurring routines. I have to balance medical appointments for my father-in-law, my husband and myself, teaching/ tutoring times, continuing education classes, funeral arrangements for friends and family members, and now and again something special to remind me that life has many different faces. In the midst of far too many sobering obligations that speak to both the resilience and fragility of our stay here on earth my husband gifted me with tickets to see Sting perform in his My Songs tour.
I’ve been a huge fan of Sting, the English musician and eighties rock star, from the time he was a member of The Police. I have been taken with the complexity of his music that tells vivid stories with poetic lyrics along side melodies that capture a perfect melding of artistry. If not for MTV and my teenage daughter’s obsession with the video performances on the channel that featured the biggest artists of the early nineteen eighties I might never have noticed Sting.
In those years I was in the most productive and exciting time of my life. In addition to being a mom and often taking care of my own mom, I was dedicated to my career as a mathematics teacher. All of my friends were as hale and hearty as I was and so we spent lots of time together exploring the world together. In other words, I was a very busy thirty something. When my daughter brought Stings music into my home, I paused to listen and realized that there was something quite special about him.
Over the ensuing years Sting continued his artistic excursion into many different ways of experimenting with words and sounds. Both he and I mellowed into our seventies without losing our energetic edges. His music matured and proclaimed his genius. I followed his journey with interest and steadily increased my collection of his music, including his foray into production of a Broadway play called The Last Ship which contains some of his very best work. When I heard that he had scheduled a performance in Houston I desperately wanted to attend. Since the concert coincided with my impending birthday, my husband purchased tickets as a gift to me.
I was over the moon with excitement but also aware that things happen quickly and unexpectedly as I age. I looked forward to the event but also kept my enthusiasm at bay lest we might not actually be able to attend. When the day finally came and it was certain that we were going to see Sting perform I was ecstatic. I primped and readied myself as if I were going to a high school prom. I actually felt as giddy as I once had been when I went to see The Beach Boys back in my high school days.
We drove across town to the Woodlands where the concert would take place in an outdoor venue, the Cynthia Woods Pavilion. We dined on seafood and toasted each other with wine as we both anticipated the performance. It was all rather magical in that our timing was in perfect sync with no hiccups. We even found a great parking spot and walked right to our seats only minutes before the show started. The weather that had been dreadfully hot for weeks had turned into a lovely fall coolness that only required a sweater for comfort.
It felt as though nothing could have been any better, but as soon as Sting began to sing it was indeed far better than I might even have imagined. He chose a mix of his most popular songs, blending one tune with the next in an almost orchestral movement. He was fit and trim and up to the task of delivering one song after another with energy, excitement, and perfect pitch for over ninety minutes. He had the diverse audience in the palm of his hands as we ultimately stood clapping, dancing and singing along at the climatic end.
Sting did not disappoint me or my husband or any of his diverse fans. He took me back to a time in my life that was almost as perfect as the performance that we watched. The music reminded me of laughter and joy with my family and friends. It was a journey back to a time when anything seemed possible with a soundtrack that was glorious. Despite the arthritis in my knees that was tweaked by the cold, I literally danced out of the concert arena feeling that the world was going to be alright. That was the power of Sting’s music and artistry.
There was pure talent and charisma on stage that night. Sting was the center of it all but he did not eclipse the back up singers or any of the musicians. In fact, he featured their talents quite generously. It was an ensemble of incredible performers whose hearts and souls demonstrated the glory of music at its very best. It was indeed a great gift to me and to everyone lucky enough to enjoy the evening with me. It will be one of those nights that I never forget and fortunately I will be able to relive it over and over again whenever I wish to hear Sting once again with my collection of his songs. We all walked along with him through fields of gold on that night and it was glorious.
All It Takes Is A Little Love 