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Time for a heart-to-heart, dear reader.

Let me also say, straight out, I am aware most of you who read this column are, well, getting along in years. Because on Saturday mornings rather than read the paper, young people are texting their friends trying to determine where they left their car last night.

Thank you for reading. And parking your car in the garage.

Now on to the theme. Old Bands and their concerts. To the point, should yesterday’s hit machines continue to roam the country looking for venues that seat 250?

Talkin’ really old guys here. Singing, an octave lower. Strumming, ever so slightly out-of-tune. Sort of dancing with a rhythmic motion not seen since my 1970 LeMans Sport convertible rolled off the factory line.

OK. This is a heart-to-heart. I confess. I saw Three Dog Night. But it wasn’t my fault. It was at Kiwanis International Convention and I had no choice but to attend just to see what buzz can be generated by stringy-haired, aging guys with axes. First thing I noticed…how long it took for the band to walk on stage after the announcer screamed, “THREE DOG NIGHT.”

In fairness, I guess they were pretty good, all considered. I had forgotten 20 of their 21 Top Forty hits. (No one ever forgets “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog.” Far out good tune.)

Momentarily stepping into TDN heaven, I joined in the pell-mell rush to the stage which was slowed only partially by my choice of aisles formed by the dinner tables. I picked the fast lane, the one blocked by walkers. One aisle over, electric-powered strollers took up so much space, eager stage rushers had to form a single line to get by. The wise remained at the rear, finding empty chairs in which to wait the scrum out.

I wonder what TDN thought as this slow-moving mass of humanity approached with no real assurance that mass would or could stop. Especially when the folks in the back started pushing.

Let’s be honest here, if you are nearing 80 and you’ve never crowded yourself to the front of the concert stage, opportunities to do so are fading. Now. Or never.

For reasons unclear, TDN hired no security to block the stage. Maybe they underestimated the collective force of Kiwanians on the move. Or perhaps the Hell’s Angels had discovered redemption and simply were not available.

Luckily, Kiwanians have a strong sense of decorum. No one jumped onstage. No one attempted the “body pass”.

Even though their voices gave out after a scant hour, I heard most everyone gave TDN a solid round of applause. I admit that I got carried away by the concert and had left early to search the parking lot for my 1970 LeMans Sport convertible.

Singing “Jeremiah was a bullfrog, (dum,dum,dum) was a good friend of mine…”

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Don Cunningham of Fremont is a freelance columnist.


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