Help — I’m Taking Two 9 Year Olds To Coldplay

They, whoever the they are that seem to be our fallback sources for wisdom and knowledge whenever we don’t know who to cite or rely on, say that we should sacrifice for our children.  Our parents sacrificed by putting us through school and educating us.  Their parents sacrificed by working long hours in sweatshops or travelling across the world to a strange new country, the new USA, to make a better life for their children.  My relatives sacrified in ways too horrific to publish here.  As the generations pass, our children become accustomed to more and more . . . cell phones, Wii, Ninetendo’s, etc.  I have worked hard to instill in my children good values, be a provider, a comforter and calmer when things go bump in the night or when it rains too loud for their sensitivities.  I have strived to attend games upon games and cheer loudly from the sidelines.  I even accepted the responsibility to coach my son’s soccer team when I believed that he needed me to be more involved.  I was rewarded at every turn with a smile, a once sleepless child now sleeping, a thank you, a high five, a confident and proud child and more . . . they have blessed me in ways that no priest or rabbi could.

Tonite, I am entering a new arena.  Coldplay, an incredible band still led by a piano player, whose songs Clocks and Vide La Vida inspire and move me, is playing at the Palace.  My daughter, 9  and her best friend, also 9, are coming with me . . . just me.  My wife and her friends smile and say how cute when they hear of my plans but I am sure they are worried.  Me too . . . I hope I am up to the task.  She is my flower, one that I have sworn to protect and here I am opening the doors to concerts and their environs to her.  I hope that in a few years when she is a teenager, the age when daughters stop talking to their dads, this little trip, sacrifice, is a permanent and pleasant memory for her.


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