Wonderful!

Stevie Wonder played an absolutely incredible concert at Pier Six Pavilion in Baltimore last night, and I was extremely fortunate to be in attendance. He is talented beyond description, just an awesome musician and person. He played so many of his hits, for well over two hours non-stop. I have never enjoyed myself more; my cheeks hurt from smiling and my throat is still sore from screaming and singing, I danced like a woman possessed in the tiny space I had. Stevie thanked his fans for loving his music and allowing him to give his departed mother a lifestyle he wouldn't have been able to provide without his success. I so want to thank him, to tell him how much his music means to me, and how happy I feel every time I hear his music, which I play frequently.

Highlights of the evening: at one point Stevie climbed up on top of his piano and danced (!), and while singing "Isn't She Lovely," sat next to his daughter Aisha, about whom the song was written. His voice is as clear and pure as it is in his earliest recordings, and his piano and harmonica and drum skills are beyond impressive. Though the performance leaves no doubt that every note heard is being played and sung live, every song was album quality, but infused with improvisation and just so much energy. I could go on and on. He promised to come back to Baltimore and play two nights in a row . . . I'll be there.

So that was Sunday (Sept. 16th). On Saturday (Sept. 15th), Bruce, Phil, Kaya and I attended a huge anti-war protest in D.C. It was my first protest, and I was very moved by the entire experience. We listened to students and activists speak, then came upon a man standing next to a flag-draped coffin, holding up a large photo of his 17-year-old son lying dead in his casket. The young man was killed in Iraq, shot in the head by a sniper. The boy's boots and fatigue shirt, embroidered with his last name, were also draped on top of the coffin. This grieving father travels the country telling his story: how a teenager, eager to serve his country, forged his father's name on enlistment documents as he was too young to join the Army without consent (the father had forbade his son to enlist), how mere months later he was informed of his son's death, and of the anguish he has endured since that terrible day.

There was a string of photos on display (a couple of city blocks long) of soldiers from New Jersey -- hundreds of young men and women, all dead, murdered serving in this insane, horrific senseless war at the behest of power-mad politicians who never themselves served one day on behalf of this country. Seeing all of this, I felt such rage and powerlessness boiling up in my soul. How could I not bear witness, show my face, raise my voice and shout my feelings? We marched from the White House to the Capitol, and for whatever good it did or did not do, I felt so proud to be a part of that.

We're planning our New Orleans trip, just Bruce and me, and I can't wait. I've never been, and so I've been reading up on the place and grow more excited as I learn more.