Corte Madera Town Band

The Sunday after Thanksgiving isn’t supposed to look like … April. Not even in the San Francisco Bay Area. Most likely it’s global weirding. And while there’s absolutely nothing in that inconvenient truth to lift my spirits, it’s hard to get too worked up when it’s 60 and sunny and I’m sipping Earl Grey and watching chilled out families in their t-shirts and flip-flops.

In addition to the first rate people-watching opps here at Corte Madera Town Center, I’m also listening to David play trombone along with the 49 other members of the Corte Madera Town Band. This is the annual outdoor concert where they all wearing Santa hats and serenade the shoppers. Sure, I’ve heard them play these same tunes at least twen… ‘Scuse me, had to quit typing for a minute to lead the applause for “Chestnuts Roasting on an Open Fire…” or whatever that song is actually called. But charred chestnuts aside, the Sunday crowd is loving this and so am I.

The music radiates vibes of peace and love, and also apparently the urgent need for a deli sandwich and a cold drink. The familiar melodies permeate the mammalian brain where they joggle good time memories and turn off the urge to put one foot in front of the other. So people stop and stand in friendly knots, smiling to themselves and to their kids and to total strangers who are standing, singing along and smiling to their kids. Eveyone is, for the moment, bobbing, swaying, tapping and connecting without digital technology to something pretty cool. A surprising gift, unfolding, in real time, right here.

Like all emotions, togetherness is fleeting… as evidenced by the folks who park and unpark in the two empty seats beside me and my laptop.

Blonde Mom#1 with her little boy. The kid is really into his chocolate cupcake. Doesn’t seem like he has any spare brain cells to take in the Christmas hit parade. But clearly I misjudge his ability to multi-task because when Mom says, “Let’s go now,” he pipes up, “One more song!” Mom’s not thrilled, but they strike a compromise. She lets him sit through “Winter Wonderland” (sleigh bells and all) while she scrubs the chocolate off of his mouth, chin, nose, cheeks and ears.

Very old woman… a walking ad for the importance of sunscreen… lights up when she spots the empty chair. But as soon as she eases herself in, she pops up again and tries to move it. I’m all for getting what you want in life, but furniture arranging during a concert… maybe not the best idea. Especially when we’re talking about a wrought-iron chair amongst other closely placed wrought–iron chairs standing on uneven cobblestones. Tough going. I was about to offer to help, when she starts looking around with a worried expression. Maybe she’s picturing the chair police swooping down on her. Though I’m thinking it’s more likely that she’s looking for Grandpa, who she left at the Apple store without mentioning that she was going to hang out by the band. A minute later she’s gone.

A couple of gay guys, both carrying ultra-cool cell phones, stop by.

Gay guy#1 (flashing a warm smile and touching my hand): May we sit here?

Annie (smiling back): Sure thing!

Gay guy#1 (squeezing my hand): Cool!

Gay guy#2 (enthusiastically clapping along with “Let it Snow”): This is such a surprise!

Gay guy#1: Yeah. Very Cool! 

Indian mom with her daughter.

Little Girl: (looking at me): Mom, why is that lady writing?

Annie: (to LG) Because I’m a writer. I’m watching all these people and writing down what I see… it’s how I get ideas for stories. (Actually I knew this would turn into a blog, but I thought the story concept would be easier for the kid to understand. And really, it’s all a story, right?)

Annie: Do you like to write stories?

LG: (shaking her head)

Annie: But I’ll bet you like to READ stories, don’t you?

LG (lighting up): Yes!

Annie (thinking): Well, where do you think stories come from? From people like me who take notes while talking to people like you.

Blonde Mom#2 (carrying Little Blondie, her 11 month old daughter): Is someone sitting here?

Annie: You are.

Little Blondie: (bopping along to “It’s Beginning to Look A lot Like Christmas): Yah, yah! Yah!

Annie: She seems to like music.

Mom: She LOVES it! My husband is a professional musician. We’re trying to figure out what instrument we should start her on.

Annie (thinking) Maybe she should learn to walk and talk first.

After the band played Feliz Navidad (throughout which the grandpa across the way crooned into the ear of his little grandson) Little Blondie’s face fell.

LB (little clouds gathering on her brow): MFPLR?

Mom: (to Annie): She wants more music.

Annie: Ah.

Phew! Good thing the musical Santas launched into “My Favorite Things” or little Blondie was heading for a meltdown. As long as the band played on, it looked like Mom would have a challenge getting on with her day, but when she was ready…

Mom (matter of factly):Time to leave after this next song.

Mom (picking up LB after the song ended): Time to leave. Say bye bye.

Super Nanny would have been impressed.

Annie: Bye bye.

The band was saying bye bye too. It’s the end of a long holiday weekend and people are acting like it’s been a good one. And it has… even if the weather is totally weird.