Denise thanked me at least a dozen times but it wasn't necessary. It was like buying her a bottle of fine wine for her birthday and then drinking half of it myself. Going to Leonard Cohen's concert last week was a present for my best friend, and it turned out to be a gift for me too.
On my way to Portland Sunday afternoon I stopped in Salem just as my son was stringing the last Christmas lights across his roof. Later he held my granddaughter up high so she could carry on a family tradition. Kayla, at 13 months, looked like a big girl as she reached towards the top of the Christmas tree to put on the star. It reminded me of all the times this son, my youngest, was hoisted up to perform the very same ritual. I was grateful to be there to share the moment.
The next day I stayed when my son and daughter-in-law went to work. I worried a little that Kayla might not appreciate waking up to find her parents gone, but when I heard her stirring in her room and I walked in, she stood up in her crib and gave me a big grin. The rest of the day was full of grins and giggles, stories and hugs, songs and play. I changed her clothes and combed her hair. I made her breakfast and lunch.
As I sat facing her with a spoonful of blueberry yogurt, a wave of
sadness washed over me. This precious little person was just beginning
her life and I wondered how much of it I would know. Grade school? Prom?
College? There's no way to predict how much time we have. I shook off
my melancholy mood. We had that day and we'd make the most of it.
Leonard Cohen, at 76, walked onto the stage at 8:10 p.m. last Wednesday
and performed 28 songs. The first set of 12 was followed by an
intermission, then 10 more plus five encores. The audience was made up
mostly of people my age with a sprinkling of younger fans. The woman
sitting to my left was maybe 40. At one point she leaned over and told
me that this was the best concert she'd ever been to.
Leonard and his band were exquisite. Each player was a talented,
accomplished musician. They complemented each other perfectly under
perfect lighting with perfect sound and a perfect stage presence.
Leonard, dressed in a suit and a fedora, spoke little but whispered
"thank you, friends," into his microphone many times. He held his hat
over his heart and bowed to the musicians on stage exuding humility and
class. He sang every song I hoped he would from "Suzanne" to "Bird on a
Wire" to "Famous Blue Raincoat."
His voice never faltered. He was the master of his lyrics and his art.
His relationship with the audience was one of mutual respect. At one
point I looked to my right and saw that both Denise and the man next to
her were crying. I later heard that many people cried during the
In his review for the Oregonian titled "Leonard Cohen Lets the Light in
at the Rose Garden," arts and entertainment critic Jeff Baker called the
performance "spellbindingandhellip;inspirationalandhellip;passionate." He said "there was
a feeling of changing seasons, of autumn passing into winter, all
evening." I felt it, too.
After his first song, "Dance Me to the End of Love," Cohen said he did
not know when he would pass this way again, "so we're going to give you
everything we've got tonight," and he delivered. It was as though he had
just one concert to perform in his life and he was honoring us with it.
"Cohen put together this wonderful band and toured the world in the
autumn of his life, a gift to everyone who has listened to his songs and
taken meaning from the poetry of his words," Baker wrote.
The opportunity to go back stage fell through but it didn't matter. The
concert, like the man, was a once in a lifetime experience. Just like
every day of our lives and each person we love is a once in a lifetime
Reach Michele Thomas, The Daily Triplicate's publisher, at
firstname.lastname@example.org, 464-2141, or stop by 9 a.m. to 4:30 p.m.