show # 126

8/30/09 Lakewood, OH @ Lakewood Park band stand

Richard Wehrenwolf

American War

Malcom Tent

Letters to the Moon

At Lakewood Park, you can walk a paved trail down to Lake Erie’s break walls. They’re made of giant cement anchor shapes piled on one another. You can leap around on the anchors as long as you mind the slick ones.

You can see the shore littered with cans and unwanted basketballs. Drift wood dries and dies up on the stone shore like tiny wooden whales. You can see the Greatness of the lake. You can see downtown Cleveland and understand why it gets “lake effect snow” and steady wind. When the Sun goes down on a cooler summer day, you’d be half convinced Cleveland was some overlooked paradise. Only half.

There is a bandstand in Lakewood Park that sit’s unused most days of the year. We counted on it being unoccupied on this late August Sunday. Luck favored us and we took over the lighted stage for the evening. We weren’t the community band or a watered down version of Grease. We were young bloods, feeling like we could make the moon go full if we howled at it loud enough. We are convinced our words are more important and stickier than words of those who strummed before us and we play on; slightly self absorbed and feigning a humble pose. The park took well to the music as did the small audience. My parents came and so did Lisa’s parents. They were frightened by our tour pal Malcolm from CT. He was around their age but scowling and damning the man like the 60’s but punker. Later on the cops showed up because someone reported smelling weed. There was no weed. Just guitars. They think us long haired, guitar slingin’ folk are all on that green skunky stuff.

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