Isn’t that always the way? You get to the concert hall early, but George Jones is a no-show. Or, more accurately, you pay a scalper $200 for tickets to a George Jones concert, and after just two songs the Possum stops at “he stopped loving her to— . . . folks, I’m just not feeling very chipper tonight” and leaves the stage.
And so it was last night. First a warm-up act, the evening star, came out and did a few numbers. But the real star of the show was the moon—the supermoon, the biggest full moon of the year, reaching its perigee (shortest distance to Earth). The stage was the eastern horizon. Show time: just after eight.
Oh, the moon showed all right. Came on stage ever so slowly. Tippy top. Half circle. And then it was up in all its glory, still looking fantastic at 4.5 billion years of age (I hear it’s had some work done).
But about 8:35, after two verses of “She Thinks I Still Care,” the supermoon went super coy, pulled a veil of clouds over its face, and went to its dressing room for the rest of the night. At least that was what I saw from my seat in the balcony (and by “balcony” I mean the Trinity River levee near downtown).
An embarrassing situation for any emcee.
“Heh-heh. Well, that’s our show for tonight, folks. Remember: The moon’s new CD will be in stores May 15. And now you can follow the moon on Twitter. Drive safely on the way home, folks, and may God bless.”
Oh, well. There were other round, bright faces in the night.
Sushi restaurant downtown.
Clock of the old First National Bank.
Bonus full moon health and beauty tip: This Telegram clip is from 1906. There is a certain amount of irony in turning to the full moon to cure baldness.
