Another View: September 15

Gregg Weinlein East Greenbush
Guess who got to see Lady GaGa recently in her Art Pop/Art Rave tour? My 10-year-old son went to her show at the Mohegan Sun Casino. All Beckett wanted for Christmas were tickets to a Lady GaGa concert. And Santa Claus came through.

But Santa was obviously too busy to consider the life situation of Beckett’s parents when he placed the holiday envelope with the concert tickets under the Christmas tree. So focused on my son’s prized gift, the great bearded one didn’t even realize the impact this present would have on Beckett’s parents.

What was Santa thinking, or drinking, when he got the tickets for Beckett? (Yes. I know I’m deflecting guilt.) Maybe he was packing a flask filled with vodka and Kahlua, and turning the milk left out with the cookies, into White Russians. Whatever the reason, Beckett’s tickets to the Lady GaGa concert created an unanticipated problem for Mom and Dad. Who was going to take Beckett to the show?

Here was my dilemma. I’m one of those older Dads… a very old Dad! I was 53 when my wife gave birth to Beckett. Fifty-three! Add the ten years of Beckett’s life to that number and you will see why I shouldn’t be a candidate to attend a Lady GaGa event.

As the concert date approached Mom and I had to decide who would escort Beckett to the show. Foolishly, I thought, because of my advanced age, a little sympathy would be extended my way. I mean… I am 63 now. Should I really be in the decision process of possibly going to the concert?

Mohegan Sun Casino may not have been the best venue for Beckett’s tickets. Santa obviously wasn’t aware of the affinity Beckett’s mother has for slot machines. Since Christmas, Mom was on a four month campaign to convince Beckett that he would have more fun if Dad took him to the concert. Guess which parent took Beckett to Lady GaGa and which parent got to spend the night at the slot machines?

So on a warm Saturday night, Mother’s Day weekend, instead of the more age appropriate younger parent, this old man went to the Lady GaGa concert. Maybe I didn’t stand out as much as I suspected. Who knows? Lady GaGa is about being all inclusive, right? But I get very self-conscious at such events where I feel I do not belong.

Beckett didn’t care that the tickets Santa got for him were for seats up near the heavens. Maybe our seats were part another special section created by the artist. I know she has special Little Monsters tickets for her concerts. Maybe Beckett and I were in a special seniors’ section where you need your AARP card just to be allowed into your seat. The Lady probably created this section thinking, if Beckett’s father is far away from the stage, she won’t have to worry about making eye contact with me when she sings, “Do What U Want With My Body.”

Seriously, even if I felt absurdly out of place on that Saturday night in Uncasville, Connecticut, any father would endure such a special evening for their child. Truth be told, I did have a financial role in Santa getting the tickets to the concert. My problem now is that Beckett keeps telling me what an awesome time we had at Mohegan Sun. Unfortunately, too often, Beckett has overheard his parents talking about someday going to Vegas. So now he has a special request for his 11th birthday: tickets to the Lady GaGa concert at the MGM Grand Garden Arena because, “they have slot machines there for Mom… don’t they, Dad?”

Gregg Weinlein East Greenbush

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