These little concert getaways - as some people know - are virtual tornados of activity. Like, there just isn't enough time to do things, and then you do them anyway. Jill and I found ourselves literally running around the financial district, finding a place to eat, a place to park, ran to Buckingham Fountain, drove past Soldier Field and ended up back at the venue to scam for good tickets a couple hours before the show. In town for two nights and just one full day, we didn't have time to do much else and accomplished what seemed like a million things in just six hours, then attended the show, thanks to a trade up to some sixth row tickets at the last minute. We were somewhat tired before we even got to the show. Maybe not tired, but exhuberent, dehydrated and covered in sweat from running around the city streets like lunatics for half a day. We really wanted to take a boat ride on Lake Michigan but we didn't have the two or three hours to do so. It's the only thing I really regret not being able to do.

Jill is a a Led Zeppelin/Robert Plant fan as I am a Rush fan and we have both taken interest in "each other's bands" so to speak. I flew out to St. Louis for two shows on R30 and then she conned me into coming for Robert Plant. We have had this Rush/Robert Plant assoociation going for quite some time, all the way back to when Plant started solo touring in what, 1990 or so, and maybe all the way back to Hold Your Fire. Rush and RP have initiated a lot of travel for us, and you know, it is a wonderful thing. Neil's book may be titled "Traveling Music" but people have been traveling for the music for....ever.

SHINE, BUT NOT ON THE DRUMMER

The lead-in to the start of the show was the extended version intro to "Shine" with lots of incense. Jill had already worshipped "Mighty Rearranger" for two months or so and knew every song and had her favorites. Admittedly, I only knew a couple and was still trying to figure some themes and things on the CD and even after 10 or 15 listens I still was not really in tune with it. However, I was in tune with the old Zep songs of course and those were easy to enjoy, but not as much as watching Jill enjoy herself with her favorite performer on stage. Hell, we had better seats for RP than we did for Rush! I thought that was a bit strange!

I was taking photos as usual and it detracted somewhat from the performance. It was a bit distracting. Not only that, it was difficult because RP just doesn't have a stage show. That fits his persona and his message, I mean, I didn't expect flames and explosions to rock the Auditorium, but you know, maybe some cool video effects or something...but none of that was present. The stage presentation was low-key, low-light and difficult to shoot. I should have just not taken any photos because I knew when I was taking them that they were not going to come out very well. But I had to try, especially for Jill, who I knew wanted some good shots, considering all the fantastic shots I've gotten of Rush. Upon developing the film it was confirmed...hardly anything came out.

I thought the show in Chicago was somewhat - lacking in energy both on stage and in the crowd. I did not like the drummer very much, he was solid, but you know, I watched him during some Zep songs and his kit was small, his beat remained the same, he hardly ever changed time or went off on a roll. He didn't really even qualify to me as being described as "methodical" by any means. He just seemed to be getting by, so to speak. With the music that was being played on stage, there was a whole lot more he could have been doing - or should have been doing - in my crazy musical critique mind. I'm no concert review critic, but maybe now I am. The drummer was just downright dull.

Plant sounded and looked better than ever, to tell you the truth. He was hitting his highs, his voice was great, he spent some time between songs talking and explaining things, that was cool. He was really into the Zep content of the evening and most of the energy was coming from him. The lead guitarist was really cool and his guitar impressions and sound imitation of Jimmy Page was somewhat decent and improvised, if not almost excellent. It was cool seeing him WORK to get those sounds out, and there were times where he was struggling to do so, and to me that made his performance exciting enough.

Overall it was a good show, but I left feeling something was missing. I don't know whether it was my mis-understanding or unfamiliarity of the new material, the lack of a "spectacular stage show" or something else that made me not think it was "fantastic." Afterall, this was Robert Plant. I think the drummer's style and attitude and my dislike of that performance really turned me off. Spoiled by Neil Peart and John Bonham. Two hard acts to follow, but you know, you don't have to follow. Just join in and do the best you can, and I don't think he was the best man for the job. Of course neither would I have been, so who am I to complain? Anyway...

SOY AND CORN

The next day we drove Illinois from top to bottom, litterally. For those of you who have not been there, it can be described in two words: Soy and Corn. There is nothing in this state on the side of the road except fields that rotate Soy and Corn every other year. Corn. Soy. Soy. Corn. Jill so noted the actual height of the corn in the northern part of the state. "Down near St. Louis it's already head high. Look at it here, it's only waist high," and I started thinking about maybe surfing Sunset Cliffs or Windansea and comparing the midwesterner's gauge of corn height vs. wave heights in Cali. Waist high, chest high, head high...top of the Sears Tower, So High, you get the idea. "They planted later in the season up here," she continued.

"This entire state is nothing but Soy and Corn," I said, after about 2.5 hours of watching Soy and Corn fly by. Not only that, Jill was running a commentary on Soy and Corn every time a field came along, which was about every 60 seconds. I was trying to figure out how the farmers kept all the land all staked out between neighbors so one wouldn't plow the other's crop. I also wondered what the heck those huge antenna things were near each farm house. Cell tower? No. Cable TV? Nah, too big. Never figured it out, and Ms. Soy and Corn didn't have an answer, either. Some entertaining crop dusters gave us a show about two hours out of St. Louis diving and dipping down to about 20 feet off the top of the crops.

I mean you can only take so much Soy and Corn, right? So I broke out Neil Peart's "Traveling Music", a book I have been taking with me wherever I travel, and have been reading it for almost a year, small sections at a time, and marking it up as to where I've been when I read some passages. And SINCE there was nothing but Soy and Corn flying by and Jill thought this was so exciting, that I started to read passages from "Traveling Music" to her out loud while she drove the Big Red Van past, well, you know, Soy and Corn fields.

I chose to read to her some passages about music history as we traveled, such as what the TAMI shows in Santa Monica, the Monterrey Music Festival in San Francisco were like, about how the Who and Pink Floyd was a major influence on Rush (and Neil Peart). Then I surprised her by reading a quote from Jimmy Page that was in the book when (Neil) was describing a new CD, and the guitar player had died or something, and that all the major musicians said that this guy would have been the next huge act, etc. We both made a mental note to go out and get the one CD that was available. Still haven't done it. Then I read a lot of the stuff about the Monterrey scene with all the arguments between bands about who would perform before who, and that the Who had pre-empted Jimi Hendrix, and as retaliation Hendrix followed the Who's stage destruction act by playing the guitar backward behind his head and with his teeth, and finally lighting his stratocaster on fire with lighter fluid. And about the racial tensions, and about how Jimi Hendrix was actually the opening act for the Monkies, but that didn't last very long into that tour, obviously. And about the "warring factions" in the music scene between Los Angeles and San Francisco based bands and promotors talents and intensions.

We pulled over to the side of the road after about an hour of reading for supplies: gas, cigarettes and as it turns out, a mid-western treat that I bought on impulse - what the heck was it called? - a nuget filled walnut log or some such silly thing. It seemed an appropriate purchase at the truck stop atmosphere place and Jill was amused that I bought it, along with some window wash fluid to help clear the windshield of 1,000 dried on, splattered, unfortunate bugs that found their last moments of life on a piece of glass on Interstate 55 southbound. The walnut log was nearly gone by the time we got to our destination. We both thought it was de-lish. A regional cultural culinary experience. This little stop also provided more, albeit brief, experiences, too. Like walking into a nearby Soy field to check out the plants. I just had to go take an up close look at the plants, pulled off a leaf, rubbed it, smelled it, looked at the buds where the beans would be coming in soon.

Jill also pointed out that a little side road had the "Route 66" historic landmarker on it. I had been on parts of Route 66 before for extended periods, mostly in New Mexico (where I found a place that has the best Chile Rellenos on the planet, just off the highway at Tucumcari), on two cross country trips by truck before. Everyone comes with a little user manual, and when you travel, live with or hang out with someone you know well, you can pull a little chapter out of that manual and use it. We pretend to fight over things that are really inconsequencial, like two little kids. When one of us knows the other doesn't know anything about something, that usually ends up in one of our "play fights." So I said hell no that isn't Route 66 (because I didn't know that it was) and she said I didn't know what I was talking about, and that the route started in Illinois and worked westward. I caved into that, but argued that the real heart of Route 66 was out west, where it evolved from people traveling from east to west, and that this little road was just nothing of what Route 66 was all about, people motoring along in their cars and stopping at all the exciting little hotels that sprung up all along the route, places like (I'm making up the names) the Tee Pee Inn and the Route 66 Motor Lodge, etc. And since I am from California, well, you know, I defended the western portion of the route as being the best (which it is of course). Then we started playfully arguing about the route and who saw what on the History Channel and who was right about this and that, and ended up pulling away and just laughing for a couple of miles down the road. We like to have these little play fights because it releases energy and tension that might otherwise boil over into, say, a REAL argument. It also allows us to play games with each other's psyche and intelligence, testing one another, and we never quite know where the little play fights might evolve or end up, or how long the other can last without cracking a smile while trying to either lie, defend or switch the topic to something else completely different. For all we know when this happens we can end up "arguing" about who is better at shooting pool or kicking the other's butt on a karate video game while arguing about the historical significance of Route 66.

I drove the last hour and a bit into the St. Louis area and managed to remember how to just about get to Jill's house but missed the small road that led to it, along of, yup, a head high field of corn, not knee high. The sun was setting and the top tails of the corn were glowing in the golden cast light.

Over the years many people have been highly critical of my trips "just to go see concerts." That it's a waste of time and money and why would someone fly to Chicago or New York to just see some music? Well, you know, even when I tell people that it's not just the music and that it's about the travel, too, they still don't seem to get it or belive me. So I'll say it a thousand times. It's not just the concert and the music. The music forms the foundation which to build upon in experience. I mean, sitting in a Big Red Van eating a walnut log and arguing about the origins of Route 66 while traveling down Interstate 55 can't really be paid for, right? Or being on top of the Sears Tower or cooling down near Buckingham Fountain before a Robert Plant show, either. Maybe other people don't really appreciate how all the Soy and Corn affects their lives.

THE GATEWAY ARCH AND LEWIS AND CLARK

Jill took an environmental class as part of some continuing education and while we were driving back from Chicago, and into the next day when we were heading into Missouri from Illinois through the rain that was the remnants of Hurricane Dennis to go to the top of the Gateway Arch in the Big Red Van, Jill continued to give me the roadside history tour of the local scene around the Mississippi Valley. And most of her points were of much interest if not surprisingly valid.

I had enough of Soy and Corn. Now we were talking soil. And of course it is somewhat well known that the area around the Mississippi Valley and along the banks of the river and for miles to each side of it, that this area is considered to be some of the richest farm land in the world. And she pointed out to the right to a large mound - a mound that was a landfill with bulldozers working away in the mist. And then she pointed to the left and showed new housing developments springing up all over the place. Then a few miles down the highway heading west toward the city and very close to the river, how strip and shopping malls were all being planned for the area. And you know, she made me sad at those moments. And it is so very true, the question she posed to me, and that was, "What is everybody thinking?" I mean, the value of the land from an agricultural standpoint is phenomenal, yet society is developing it for housing and shopping. And it made me sad and almost brought tears to my eyes because it is such a rich, beautiful place, and then I made the connection to our little Route 66 "argument" and how things along that, save a few places, have just disappeared, been plowed over for houses and malls. So it's all disappearing. And very, very quickly.

It was a pleasant rain. Warm. Living in San Diego, rain really only comes in the winter, and it's a cold, coastal rain. I said as much, how nice it was to be in a tropical, warm rain and didn't mind it at all, it was welcome. The arch is right beside the Mighty Mississippi and we had one of our little play arguments again, with me being a surfer and "landlocked" in the mid-west. I said that I could set a Guiness Book of World Records record by being the first surfer to paddle across the Mississippi. Which then turned to legal ramifications from Jill, stating that I would probably be arrested the moment I got on the other side of the river. And she also offered a rebuttal in the form of dangerous currents and such and such, to which I said I could probably handle no problem on one of my surfboards, even if I ended up a mile down river from the point where I started. That escalated into me wanting to paddle the wost of the worst - the area where the Mississippi and Missouri Rivers conjoined...just more verbal fun on our part.

Of course we were on a frantic pace again trying to fit more things into a day than is humanly possible. We were a bit late getting to the arch and got tickets to go to the top but had an hour to kill. I discovered the Lewis and Clark Expedition exhibit housed in the same building as the base of the arch and at first thought it would not be very interesting. But the artifacts drew me over visually and we headed over there. I have to say it is one of the most extensive presentations I have seen on a topic in a long time. What really got me into it were the large, permanent text descriptions that were along the exhibit. Not just small little notes, but long explanations of things that were in the display cases that took minutes and not seconds to read. And as a writer I was taken with the text as I read more and more. And as the exhibit expanded into the actual trip and descriptions of events, the text started to include unedited excerpts of Lewis' and Clarks' actual handwritten journals and diaries, with incredible mis-spellings and phrases of the time period, and it was like being transported back to that time. The first-hand journal entries that were there were incredible to read, so much so that I became lost in the exhibit and forgot about the trip to the top of the arch. It was very nice being distracted like that and learning things one does not know about - reading about braving the elements while it was raining outside, too, added to the experience.

After a really fun trip to the top of the arch I had to head straight to the gift shop and see if they had a published book containing the original, unedited diary entries from the Lewis and Clark Expedition. Many books were there about it, including ones that had been edited and corrected for punctuation and spelling, but it was the original entries that I was after, as the writing style was so new and interesting to me. I found a book that suited my needs, "The Journals of Lewis and Clark," edited by Bernard DeVoto.

November 7,8, 1805:

Great Joy in camp we are in view of the Ocian, this great Pacific Octean which we been so long anxious to See. and the roreing or noise made by the waves brakeing on the rockey Shores (as I suppose) may be heard distictly. A cloudy morning Som rain, we did not Set out untill 9 oClock, haveing changed our Cloting. three Indians in a Canoe overtook us, with salmon to Sell, we came too at the remains of an old village at the bottom of this nitch and dined, here we Saw great numbers of fowl, Sent out 2 men and they killed a Goose and two canves back Ducks.

Isn't that just great! The entire book - about 500 pages long - reads just like that throughout. I am nearing the end of reading "Traveling Music" with less than 50 pages to go. And I find it so wonderful to have discovered this new book and can replace reading "Traveling Music" with "The Journals of Lewis and Clark." Isn't it just wonderful what this trip to Chicago brought - one journey brings another, brings another...Old historic Route 66, the Lewis and Clark exhibit and my new adventure book.

I expect readers of this to understand what it like to travel to see music. It really isn't about just going to see "Some dumb band," or some "Stupid concert," or 'A waste of time and money." It's really about traveling with the music and letting it take you somewhere else, too.