It was a birthday weekend in Appleton and parts to the north. My sister turned an unnotable age, nothing with a zero at the end or even a five, but we celebrated still.
We had tickets to the Symphony on Saturday night, and dinner beforehand is always rushed, so she decided she wanted a Birthday Brunch at our parents’ place. She requested an egg dish that’s called “Stunning Brunch” for family historical reasons; it has cubes of bread and cheese and green chilies and is baked in a 9x12 pan. We ate in the sunroom which has lemon yellow walls. My parents’ place is open and very light, and always very orderly and welcoming and peaceful, so my mental picture of this brunch, with its yellow walls and eggs and light, was of a springlike golden burst of sunshine. It’s fitting, because I feel the same way about my sister.
Because we had Symphony tickets, she had to miss the performance in town of one of her favorite bands in the world, Mike and the Moonpies, who hail from Austin, Texas. A tip had made us see them on the stage in Houdini Plaza one early evening during the Mile of Music, three or four years ago, and she went out and immediately bought all their albums which have been on heavy rotation ever since, but they have not been back to town until tonight, almost her birthday, when they were playing a local bar but she couldn’t go. Like a miracle, though, a friend saw another show on Sunday afternoon at 4 pm, on her actual birthday. Mike and the Moonpies, from Austin, Texas, we’re playing in the auditorium at the high school in Wittenberg, Wisconsin, about an hour and a half’s drive away.
Originally four of us were going to go, but one pulled out at the last minute due to studying for final exams – she’s a student at nearby Lawrence University – so in the end my sister, her friend and colleage from the PAC ticket office, and me planned to go.
We’d had a brutal few weeks of weather. Rain, which turned to three inches of ice, then snow, then historic cold that reached minus 24F degrees over two days, then warm and melt and rain again, then more ice and more snow. The last shoveling out was the last straw for my sister, who had to move the ice chunks that the plow left at the end of our driveway, with the help of several neighbors, as I was away. During that same storm, white-out conditions on the highway had caused a 131 car chain-reaction crash that left one day and many seriously injured, and all the cars totaled. It had been a few days since that snow, but another one was predicted for her birthday weekend, which caused some trepidation. We all agreed that it was not worth risking life to see this band, so if the roads were icy or blocked with drifting snow or in low visibility fog, we would stay home, and she planned an alternative peaceful day just in case.
But, joy of joys, the snow ended early in the morning, and the roads were all dry and clear, and so the conditions were great for our drive. We saw some patches of blue sky, and the snowy fields and gentle hills to the north of town, setting off the red barns, were beautiful, like paintings or photographs in a calendar. I had to carry the mental pictures because I was too slow with the camera – by the time I got my phone out the scene had changed.
We got to Wittenberg about an hour before the show was due to start. We found the high school where it would be, and there were about three cars in the parking lot and not much movement evident, so we decided to drive back down the street and get gas for the trip back, but just as we were leaving the school parking lot, we saw a camper van towing a trailer, and just knew that must be the band.
We stopped at a very well-stocked gas station which also had a little gift shop, with pretty nice clothing, jewelry, leather purses and home decorations, painted signs with sayings on them about wine and coffee and things. We didn’t buy any gift shop items, just snacks and drinks. We also sussed out options for dinner after the show, which were pretty limited in a town that doesn’t even have a stoplight.
Back at the school, the doors were open and a few people were sitting around. There was a long lunch table set up with merchandise, and another one with a small sign advertising the three shows in the series, of which this was the first one. We showed our tickets to a girl near a money box, and she kind of shrugged and said, yeah, go in, and didn’t need to scan or collect or tear our tickets, so we retain them as souvenirs. We were able to buy raffle tickets for the high school dance team, who was having a 50/50 raffle which are usually a good deal.
While the entry into the show was very humbly just a high school cafeteria, the auditorium itself was actually pretty nice, with comfortable seats and a proper PA system aside the stage. A very kind middle-aged brown-haired man greeted us and showed us to our seats – he turned out to be the promoter who had organized the concert series. We were about half-way back. The front rows were starting to fill in. Most of the other patrons were older, white haired, clad in warm coats.
(During the first part of the show, Beth and I received messages from our Mom, to let us know that our cousin had passed away, after a long battle with ALS, but that’s a story for another entry.)
At the appointed time, the kindly promoter took the stage, thanked us all for being there, announced the next two shows (The Bellamy Brothers, and I can’t remember the second one, both in April), and then invited the dance team members up to the stage to draw the winners from the raffle. They gave away three CDs, one each from the artists in the series, and then the 50/50 pot which was just over $200. It was the cutest, but most normal and matter of fact, opening of a show that I’ve seen in years.
The band then took the stage – without the keyboardist who’d been with them in Appleton, with a new bass player since we saw them last, but same drummer, lead guitarist, and most importantly pedal steel guitarist who is my sister’s favorite. My sister will remember what they opened with, but I remember the sound – perfectly realized, unabashedly traditional country. They played for several hours, covering material from all of their albums, plus one George Strait, one Willy Nelson and one Freddy Fender song that were more familiar to the crowd. Mike’s voice sounded a little beat up from the road, but the energy and performance was great. There was silence between many of the songs, because the crowd applauded politely but not for long enough. At the end of the show, though, they stood and hollered and called the band back for a multiple-song encore. But didn’t buy much merchandise – I could walk right up to the table, where I got two CDs, a shirt and threw in a beer coozy so the manager didn’t have to make any change.
We ended up dining at the local Subway, which also contained a pizza place. We drove home just at twilight, rapturously recalling the show, hearing my sister’s friends story of her family connections to the towns we drove through, and watching the warm sunset light on the snow.
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