I just got back from a Bela Fleck and the Flecktones concert at Yoshi’s in San Francisco, and it was incredible (for lack of a better, stronger, more emotional word). I’m going to hold off on completing this post until I’m more awake, but stay tuned…

I went yesterday with a few friends to watch Dave Brubeck perform in San Francisco’s Davies Symphony Hall. Our trip from Stanford was quite an adventure, as we arrived in San Francisco around 6:45 (Caltrain) and walked about 2 miles to get to the concert (which started at 7:30). We got to the front doors right at 7:30, but ended up missing about fifteen minutes of the conert as the Will-Call line was enormous.

While Dave Brubeck is long past his prime, it was an incredible opportunity to witness an 87 year old moving his fingers faster than I can. In my short experiences with other octogenarians, I think Brubeck is living proof that aging is hardly an immutable process. However, I don’t feel that Brubeck the man nor his craft of piano playing are somehow immune to the ravages of age. I’m sure he constantly practices in private, and I think that’s why he’s able to stay sharp and perform at such an advanced age. I only wish that more people his age had such a devotion to their hobby, passion, or craft.

A Lion in Winter

There aren’t any insights or profound thoughts in this particular post, but I just wanted to take a break from studying for midterms to get this out. Of course, I have been interested recently at the way society treats its older members. Breaking this lofty thought down into more specific (and perhaps more threatening) terms, how do we as individuals treat the elderly people that we encounter, whether they’re relatives, friends, or strangers. More on this at a later date (read: after midterms).