Stowing Away in Dave Brubeck's Pocket

On Saturday night, my family went to Ravinia to see Dave Brubeck in concert. It was as close to heaven as I've been since Jazz Fest last year. The weather was supposed to be rainy, but the clouds knew better than to disrespect the legendary jazz musician and his quartet. Instead, it was a beautiful, sunny summer evening, with temperatures hovering near 75°F all night long. Blue skies smilin' at me; nothin' but blue skies do I see.

The evening was my Father's Day present to my Post-It poet dad. I didn't realize he was a fan of jazz until after I fell in love with Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong and Dave Brubeck. And then my brother came home with a bunch of Frank Sinatra CDs one day, and I had to give up my hopes of being adopted.

(Just kidding, parents. I love you. Most of the time.)

I didn't get any good pictures of the band playing because I wasted what little battery I had in my camera by snapping pictures for almost two straight hours before the show. Oops. But here are the people who sat in front of us. Cool, huh?

Seriously, the night was pretty much perfect, and I can almost die happy. I have seen and heard Dave Brubeck perform live, but the staff at Ravinia refused to let me see him up close, adopt him, or stash myself in his pocket to live with him forever. Maybe next year.