Grandma salutes Shinedown

One of my earliest articles published — in a newspaper, not on a blog — was in the early '90s and was titled Mosh-pit Mom. My husband and I used to go to a lot of concerts back then, most of them the rockin' kind with moshpits on the floor, all of them during the years I was a mom with three fairly young daughters.

It's been a few decades since I've had to protect myself from flailing feet on a concert floor, quite a few years since I've marveled at the moxie of the moshers from afar. Due to lack of funds as well as lack of touring bands we were willing to shell out our pennies to see, my husband and I have attended not even a handful of concerts in recent years, only on rare and special occasions.

This past Sunday was a rare and special occasion: For Jim's early March birthday, I purchased tickets to see Shinedown, a favorite rock band of ours. Sunday night was the night, and off we went.

We arrived in line early, before doors opened as savvy concertgoers typically do to get a spot close to the stage. Only, as we're now older and wiser (and far more frail and old-fart like), we arrived early in hopes of nabbing balcony seats where we could sit when pooped rather than those stand-and-be-squished spots on the floor. We waited patiently in line with the mixed crowd of youngsters, oldsters like ourselves and everything in between. Most of them dressed in black. Which Jim and I weren't. Nor did we have the seemingly requisite tattoos, but that was okay; at our age, we're perfectly comfortable in our own non-tattooed skin.

Our fellow Shinedown fans were polite, friendly, and none of us rushed the doors when they finally opened. The only hitch getting in was when the young man checking my purse pulled out my prescription bottle, said, "Uh, prescription drugs?" As he inspected the contents, he chuckled to find Tylenol, cough drops, toothpicks, and such. You know, some of the stuff grandmas keep in their bags, just in case.

Once inside, we succeeded in getting balcony seats, surrounded by many other, ahem, older concertgoers. Jim ambled down to get us both a ($6 a piece!) beer, and not long after, the opening band kicked things off. The trio from the U.K. was apparently good, according to the fist pumps and such from the floor crowd, though the gutteral groans and screeches from the singer did nothing for this grandma.

Then Shinedown took the stage, and the real show was on! Though, as lead singer Brent Smith announced from the outset, this wasn't going to be a show, it would be an event.

And that it was!

There were incredible moments throughout, not a single false note or misstep that let down the crowd. I wasn't willing to experience the event from behind the screen of my phone, but I did manage to capture a bit here and there to take home some of the magic to relive later.

Moments such as this:

There was indeed a moshpit. I was quite thankful I'm well beyond the years that would put me within 10, 20, even 200 feet of the, um, fun. Smith wasn't afraid to enter the fray, though, especially when the crowd was in non-moshing mode... and a bodyguard of sorts led the way.

 

One of Shinedown's most shining moments for the Colorado Springs concertgoers was when guitarist Zach Myers donned a Peyton Manning jersey, expressed his love for our favorite (now retired) Broncos quarterback, and Smith followed with his own thoughts.

Shinedown sure knows how to please the Broncos fans.

And the rockers.

Even the old ones.

On the way home, Jim and I were pumped — not pooped, as we expected to be on the first day of Daylight Saving Time — and we committed to seeing more bands in the future than we have been of late.

Next up? We're not yet sure. We are sure, though, that whomoever it may be, they'll have a pretty tough time topping Shinedown's show.

Um, Shinedown's event, I mean!

Today's question:

Who would you like to see in concert?