Walking around the front of the Lowell Memorial Auditorium last night wasn’t producing, and I couldn’t bring myself to the Boston Garden refrain of “WHO’S LOOKING FOR TICKETS,” so I gave up on selling the extra I had to Jason Isbell and headed in. Off to the left part of the lobby is an ATM, and as I was paying $3.50 for the privilege of using it, I saw a somewhat disheveled woman sitting on the floor with the entire contents of her purse and wallet strewn about her. A real Costanza wallet image. A ticket taker hovered over her. “Did you lose your ticket?” I asked. “Yeah,” she said listlessly. I handed her my second ticket. “It’s a good one. Enjoy the show.”
Sitting in back for opener Josh Ritter, his unfamiliar music was nonthreatening country rock. Toward the end of his set I walked down to my 7th row seat and met Sarah (I think). We chatted a bit through the show. Her son is schizophrenic and went to court today for something.
It was the 3rd time I’d seen Jason Isbell this year, and he never disappoints. Five songs in I heard the line that I was there to hear.
About a month ago my son Kyle came to live with me full time. There’s a story to that, but not for here. He’s where he needs to be and I’m well, you read the line.
Now about that lost ticket. Do you ever feel like you’ve lost your ticket in life? Not me. I feel like I go through life with one of those winning chocolate tickets, but I see so many people looking like life’s just beating them down. Like Sarah. She was pretty down about her son, but really into Jason and called out for one song a few times during the night. We all have songs we really relate to, and I wondered if she felt like the woman in the song that she wanted to hear so badly. During the encore as the band cranked out “Don’t wanna die in a Super 8 motel,” I headed for the exit. This morning I read the setlist. Sarah got to hear her song. I hope things went OK for her child.
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