Last night, my son Frank and four of his friends, who have formed a band called The Lost and the Lonely, played their first concert.
Originally they’d planned to play in Fox Run Park. In January. In Colorado. Not the best plan ever formulated. Particularly considering they were all shivering two days ago when they were practicing inside the barn they ended up playing in.
Once they determined the park idea in the middle of winter probably wouldn’t work out, they began a search for a venue. They went to the places around town that feature live music, only to be added to a list of bands they’d consider asking to play.
They went to the Woodmoor Barn, which they could rent for $100 plus a $500 security deposit. Given they’d given out 500 flyers for their show, they determined that if anyone broke anything and they lost the deposit, it would mean their first show would cost each of them $120. Money they didn't have.
A week before their announced concert date, they were still without a venue. I posted something on Facebook asking for suggestions from local folks. Before any came in, Doug and I drove downtown to look . . . one more time. Keep in mind that “downtown” in Monument means a little over three blocks. As we rounded the curve on Front Street. Doug said, “the barn.” Yes, I thought, that would be perfect.
The barn is owned by Si and Dorothy Sibell. Si and Dorothy are two of the best known residents of Monument. In their late eighties, there is not a feistier couple in the state of Colorado. It is almost unbelievable, given the fact that we know everyone and everyone knows us, that in the eight years we've lived here, Doug and I had never met them.
I called G’ma Claudia seconds after Doug and I drove by the barn and asked her how best to go about asking them if we could use it. “I’ll get G’pa Kevin on it,” she said. “He’s known them forever.” I told her the boys were looking to play their show one week from that day. That was Friday. It was Sunday before we heard back, and the answer was yes, but the date wasn’t a good one. “Call Dorothy,” she told me.
I rang the number and Dorothy answered, “This is Heather, isn’t it?" After a minute, Dorothy told me the date was, in fact, available, and we made plans to meet the following day. Monday was a holiday, so all five of the boys went with me to look at the barn.
Dorothy and Si are book character inspiration if there ever were. We were mutually amazed that we finally met, seeing as both of us had heard of the other. We walked out to the barn, Dorothy and Si telling stories the whole time.
What I didn’t know was after the last “teen” concert held there, a boy somehow ended up on the adjacent railroad tracks, and lost both his legs. "We vowed not to allow concerts in the barn ever again,” Dorothy told me. “But Kevin taught our kids to swim, he’s part of the family, and since he asked, we agreed.” My head reeled with stress, hoping there wouldn’t be a repeat of that fateful night, and no one attending this show would get hurt or in trouble.
The Sibbels had a birthday party in the barn for their sixty-year-old daughter two days before our tour. The place was clean, but there was a great deal of alcohol behind the bar, and lots of tables and other party equipment that would need to be moved before the boys’ show. The barn is a bit of a misnomer. On the outside it looks like a standard steel-framed barn, but on the inside it is more of a special events venue. Every year, on July 3, they hold a barn dance . . . attended by some 300 people. It serves as a fundraiser for wounded warriors. Again Dorothy couldn't believe Doug and I had never attended. Neither could I.
The boys asked that afternoon if they could help clean up. Dorothy enthusiastically told them they could. Si stood, in his moose-hide moccasins, oxygen tank in hand, and directed the boys to their next task with a wave of his cane. Inside an hour, the remnants of the weekend’s party were put away, liquor loaded into boxes and moved to the house, steam tables empty and put in a back shed, trash cans taken to the dumpster to be emptied. Dorothy proclaimed that they boys had more than earned their use of the barn. The only thing she asked was that it be as clean when they left it, as it was that afternoon.
I was so proud of the boys that day. I knew Frank would be a gentleman, especially with his mother’s watchful eye over him, but the other boys proved to be equally as polite. Each of them approached Si and Dorothy, looked them in the eye, introduced themselves and shook their hands. During the barn cleanup, they spoke loudly enough for Si and Dorothy to hear them, and rather than getting distracted with planning the space for the show, they stayed alert and helpful. Dorothy commented to me later how polite and helpful they were. I beamed.
We left that afternoon, barn key in hand, and with the invitation for the boys to practice in the barn that week. The boys and I were overjoyed.
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