Can’t Be Young (pt. 6 of 10)
*Dear Reader,
My last post was in February 2025 and as of this writing it is now almost July. I know that’s too long, but perhaps you’ll cut me some slack, as I do have a pretty good reason: I was getting sober, which I am presently writing about and will publish on that subject very soon. In the meantime, for your summer reading enjoyment, I’m publishing a series of travel writings I made during a two-week RV trip with my wife and friends to the American southwest in August of 2023 that I originally posted on my social media accounts but have been asked to repost here. There’s a few references to my drinking, which obviously do not represent my present-day lifestyle, but that I left in for historical accuracy and for comedic and literary effect. I hope you enjoy reading these as much as I enjoyed living them, and then writing them.
Can’t Be Young
Aug. 14, 2023 (day seven): Colorado, part deux. The Litty Titty RV Committee, as we refer to our party of five, decided to make this day a “down-day” at the rad Denver West KOA, our first day with no significant driving time, but with evening plans that necessitated the conservation of our energies (otherwise known to seasoned live-music aficionados as a “rock nap”, or a “disco nap” if one is of that persuasion). I spent the morning and afternoon showering Kansas and Colorado off of my odiferous, dust-caked and sun-broiled body and taking in the campsite’s scenic serenity from a camping chair. (This is all just my colorful way to say “doing jackshit”).
At the designated departure time, we piled into the rental car and set off…..Ok this part requires a little backstory- for at least a couple of years now, ten-year-old Booker’s two favorite musical artists have been Beck and the French band Phoenix (Gorillaz is a close third and may be tied with Led Zeppelin and Weird Al at the time of this writing). Kelly’s dad has been generously offering their family use of his RV, but had not yet made plans to take it out. Then, this past January, Beck and Phoenix announced they were touring the US together. We jumped onto the web to see the itinerary and if they were coming anywhere close to Western NC. We saw an Atlanta date and started making plans for the 5 of us to attend until Joe noted that one of the dates was at Red Rocks Amphitheater outside of Denver, which has been a bucket-list item for me since I saw the U2 video for “Sunday Bloody Sunday “ on MTV, filmed during their 1983 concert there. One of us, we argue about who it was (though I insist it was me) said “RV road trip?!?!” which elicited a collective widening of eyes and OMG facial expressions and then a shared “YAAASSSS!” The decision was made then and there that come hell or high water…we were gonna pool our resources and make this shit happen.
So, after months of planning, we had given birth to our brain-child and were on our way to Red Rocks for the show. We arrived early as recommended and though we cooked in the direct sunlight under the cloudless skies, we got to explore the venue before the crowds descended upon the sold-out concert. At some point, I realized my tongue had turned to cardboard as I had been walking around with my mouth hanging open in awe while surrounded by air that aims to suck every drop of moisture from any exposed orifice (Too much? I blame my editor. Wait…that’s me.) Not only were we hyped to see the co-headliners but Sir Chloe and Japanese Breakfast played excellent sets to open.
This, my beloved reader, is where the written word (so far as I am capable of rendering it) fails to convey what it is like to see a concert at Red Rocks on a clear summer Colorado evening two weeks after your 51st birthday with your special person and good friends after dreaming about it for 40 years. As James McMurtry opines in his song Canola Fields, “You can’t be young and do that.”