Hot Flashes

The un-concert


 

 

Don’t bring a survival kit, a bulletproof vest and an infinite supply of Sinatra for a two-hour trek into Dodger Stadium. Give the Chevy a rest.

Don’t avoid fluids in order to miss piddling at every McDonald’s en route to the Ahmanson.

Don’t consult five different driving apps to bypass traffic, only to be rerouted to the Staples Center via Salinas and Peoria.

Don’t lock up Fido and Felix for six hours until you’re home from the Hollywood Bowl. The only bowl they care about is the one with chow.

Don’t tell your neighbors you’re just going to the Greek, because they might put your house on Airbnb. When you come home, the three bears could be sleeping in your bedroom.

Don’t.

Instead, just drive to the park. Dover and Hendrix is the place in Thousand Oaks. Ten minutes from your house. Oh, maybe 15 if you have an ice cream in your hand or a tendency to drive slowly past that new bakery to ponder why it’s called Le Pain Quotidien.

Anyway, it’s the Summer Concert Series, and if there is one blessing we have for living out here where coyotes outnumber art galleries, it’s this concert schedule.

Oh it’s not really a concert in the tuxedo, bow-tie, patentleather shoe sense. This place is for people who whistle “Gimme the Simple Life” after they’ve had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. It’s for people who prefer fresh air to diesel fumes on the 118. It’s for people who believe the solution to a bad hair day is a ball cap, a pair of sunglasses and a bag of Doritos.

See, it’s just a park. But the park was not designed by Frank Gehry nor does it offer circular underground parking that makes you dizzy and ignites your vertigo.

You park ol’ Betsy above the ground in the open air on the side of the road and walk your sorry derriere off. So it’s parking spot and treadmill rolled into one. Clever, eh? Carry a 30-pound backpack with guacamole and burritos for extra points on your FitBit.

No reserved seating required. No hairy monster overflowing in the chair next to you. In fact, most guys at these concerts don’t have much hair at all. Just put your chairs and blankets out in the morning and you’ll be sure of a place under an oak tree older than you, and that’s saying a lot.

Why? Well, at last you can see the Rolling Stones live. OK, the Stonez. Fleetwood Mac showed up under a pseudonym I cannot recall, as did Elvis. I can recall Elvis but he looked a little like my kids’ history teacher. And come to think of it, he was, but that doesn’t matter since . . .

I fit right in. There are hundreds of us geezers there, reminiscing about the Beatles on Ed Sullivan and how Mick Jagger suddenly looks so old. Gosh, we don’t. You know us. Oh sure, there are families and grandkids and all flavors, but the core group, the ones dancing and singing to every word are just as aged as the cheddar in their picnic baskets.

So don’t. Don’t escape the simple life for an afternoon on the 101 and a rendezvous with steaming asphalt. Take a 20 out of Yaya’s slush fund to drop into the collection plate at the park and join Grumps and me at the summer concert series.

Do.

Elizabeth Kirby has been around a long time—a resident of Thousand Oaks since 1983, whose glass is usually half full if she can find it. Her column appears twice a month in the Acorn. Reach her at kirby@theacorn.com or kirby.hanson@verizon.net.


IN THE GROOVE—Frank Grimaldo of Thousand Oaks and Tracey Lund of Newbury Park dance to the music of The Stonez during the tribute band’s Memorial Day performance at Dover-Hendrix.

IN THE GROOVE—Frank Grimaldo of Thousand Oaks and Tracey Lund of Newbury Park dance to the music of The Stonez during the tribute band’s Memorial Day performance at Dover-Hendrix.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *