50 and Counting- You Can't Always Get What You Want

In 1972 I stood in the second row of the Chicago Amphitheater, as a wide-eyed teenager and watched the Stones give one of the best shows of their career. As the chords of  Brown Sugar were being pounded out by Keith on his telecaster, it reverberated to every corner of that big hall giving me goosebumps. I knew this would be night to remember. Soon after that moment, and to my dismay everyone behind us must have had the same feeling and decided to try and get up close and personal with the Glimmer Twins. They started pushing forward, chairs went down and a mass of bodies pushed us closer to the stage to get in on the action taking place above us. I was being jostled and pushed, but I wanted to remember this moment. I looked carefully at  each one of them,  Mick in his iconic white jumpsuit, darting back and forth, his body nothing but muscle and sinew. Bill Wyman was there looking bored, Charlie Watts had his trademark steady beat and look of tolerance at all of us screaming fans. Mick Taylor was looking soft and vulnerable and Keith Richard was being..well Keith.

My girlfriends and I got separated,  I was being shoved up towards the stage with bodies so tight, I felt I couldn't breathe. I tried to concentrate on the show, Jagger strutting taking off his belt and whipping it to the floor in time to Midnight Rambler...Well you heard about the Boston...wack! taking swigs of beer in between songs, which were placed on the stage floor in front of him. 

With each song it got more crowded and I had thoughts of suffocation and death. I was probably a bit melodramatic but at age sixteen, this concert thing was new to me.  I was so fearful and uncomfortable I decided to get out of there. My girlfriend who had appeared again to my right was hysterical and screaming at me to leave. I turned around to see if I could find a way but saw no light or path to the side of the stage, just a sea of faces behind us that went on forever. As I turned back towards her, I saw a figure of a girl with long dark hair, resembling my friend climbing up on stage with a frantic look, gesturing for me to follow. She was promptly escorted off the stage by security, but not before walking past Keith who stopped and told the body guard, Take it easy man, not so rough on her! 

I ended up asking for help to get out and the crowd around me obliged. The 70's were a kinder and gentler time, I guess. They lifted me up and  pushed me to another group who did the same until I was safely out of the mosh pit and on the side of the stage.  I watched from that vantage point safely, while admittedly not as exciting as being front and center, trying to catch Mick's eye.

  After the last chords of Street Fighting Man faded into the loud sounds of the fans leaving, I came back to the front of the stage looking for my friends.  There, I spied the beer bottle Mick had been drinking from, still up on up on the stage albeit empty. My friends who had re-appeared hoisted me up and I got my hands on a souvenir which still sits neatly packed away in my box of memories. Those words that Keith spoke were recited over and over in the coming months in our circles. We almost died and spoke to Keith. We were cool. 

My kids go through the box from time to time asking about it. Where is Mick Jagger's beer bottle mom? You better not throw it away. They always look relieved when they see it. They know the story but always ask me anyway. How did you get this again? And so the story goes.

Why am I writing a blog about it? I guess I'm a bit nostalgic thinking that  this could be the last time they will perform here or anywhere. Who knows what life has in store for any of us, especially as we get older. Silly as it seems, we went downtown on Friday night with old friends from high school and stalked them. No sightings, but we sure had fun talking about it. I think in part it's  because a band that has been together as long as the Stones,  makes us remember anything is possible, even at fifty years and counting. And don't we all need to remember that new dreams and goals aren't just for those under fifty. 

My husband is a musician and big Stones fan. He played at the House of Blues last night and guess who was there the night before? The Rolling Stones! As I write this I am still on Craig's List looking for tickets for tonight's show. But, $290 a ticket is a bit steep for my budget. If I don't get a miracle, I will be staying home tonight, with my box of memories.

The heavens above may be playing a cruel joke on it's number one fan, but I still have great memories of all of those concerts I've attended over the years. Oh yes, and a beer bottle souvenir.

To quote Mick...You can't always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you might get what you need. It was Meister Brau.