I am 35 years
old, at Malkin Bowl on a sunny Saturday night. I’m exhausted. I feel as though
I’ve been here forever, waiting for Great Big Sea to take the stage. I’m
already cynical and unfair. The crowd is old. Balding men love Great Big Sea.
When did this happen? I’m not ready for this realization: that these are the
same people who were young, dancing next to me at Great Big Sea concerts 10
years ago. They are old because we are all old.
