I learned a really cool thing the last time I visited my father, and it was something that confirmed what I remembered remembering when I was a kid.
Now, the memory was very foggy and I didn’t know “who,” but I used to dream over and over about a place with a round stage. I don’t know if the whole stage was round, but there was a curve where I was. There was the color red and great music. That was the extent of the memory.
So on a trip to Jersey last year, I stopped by my Pop’s, we went to dinner and he told me something that brought this memory into better focus. My father told me that he took me to a Herbie Hancock concert when I was about 2 or 3 years old and that I stayed awake during the whole show, remaining at the edge of the stage watching EVERYTHING and (of his account) understood the music.