Impromptu Joy
I got off the phone tonight with Anne and I noticed that music was reverberating through my courtyard. Sounding like it was a band playing in the park across the street, I slipped on a sweatshirt and my flip flops and wandered outside. Turns out there was a live band, and they were played lively and catchy Irish drinking song type songs. In fact, as I checked out a single flyer posted by the gazebo where the band played, Welles Park has a regular Tuesday night outside concert. Kind of like Wolf Trap/Ravinia for free and right across the street. Not too well advertised, though, because there were like four families scattered on the lawn, but they did come prepared with blankets, snacks, and drinks.

Everyone else there was kind of like me, they stumbled upon it and stuck around. It was lovely and cool out and the sun was setting and the music was upbeat and fun, so I stood there for about forty minutes watching them. And that was great, but not the "impromptu joy" that was first referred to in the blog title. By that, I was referring to one of the other viewers of the band. There was a dad and his teenage son who walked up to watch the same time as I did. The dad stood back and observed with reserve, and the son was the one who displayed tried and true blessed joy. I would guess that he had a more severe form of autism, but more importantly he fricking loved the music and was not afraid to show it. He hopped. He did jumping jacks. He swung his arms. He clapped with outstretched arms. He raised his arms to the sky. During the slower numbers, he stood up close and swayed slowly. I understood where he was coming from because the music made me want to dance too, and it was cool that he could so readily display his enthusiasm.