My sister, Barbie and I went to see Kris Kristofferson a week or so ago. She stayed up until midnight to grab us tickets on the front row. I snapped this picture from my chair before he came out. I kind of like the composition of it. It was an intimate evening with an icon.
He sang up every song we all knew, and spoke of some of the people who had passed through his life. He told us of some of his escapades from his younger and wilder days, for the good times.
I took these pictures of him after he was finished singing. I didn't want to make him forget the words. I wanted to help him make it through the night. He is 75 now but he was still sharp. He was a Rhodes Scholar, remember.
The next day I went to visit my grandies. I was in the grocery store with Rachel. I spoke of the concert. She said, "Who is Kris Kristofferson?" Cheese and Rice!! She had a cultural gap!!
I sang her a line or two from some of his songs. Nope. Never heard it. Not even freaking Bobby McGee!
When we were in the check-out stand, hoping to prove that she was lacking in knowledge of great song writers, I asked the check-out guy if he knew who Kris was. No! He had never heard of him! Gah! He said, "This guy will know. He's a music genius. Hey, Brice! Do you know who Kris Kristofferson is?"
Stupid kid didn't know either.
That was when I remembered that when I looked back over my shoulder, the concert attendees looked like a bunch of Q-tips sitting in the audience. Crap.
