In which I read miles into a simple look on a man's face

I have been an observer of people lately it seems.  I have quality time at my local airport every week as a volunteer, so I do a lot of people watching those days, but these are other times that have popped up recently.  In the lobby waiting for “Jersey Boys” to start and again this past Friday at a Celtic music concert.  It’s interesting to me to see how people walk and move and what they wear. How the interact with others or their expressions while they just stand there waiting for someone. 

Friday night I attended a Celtic music concert in town that kicked off a weekend festival. I had heard one band before, Rathkeltair, and had heard of another, Seven Nations (though technically I did see their original lineup play a reunion show in 2006) and one was totally foreign (pardon the upcoming pun) to me, the Scottish medieval rock band Saor (pronounced Shore) Patrol.  While I really want to write a whole story on the woman that was dancing with a light pole during the Seven Nations set and shaking it so much that those of us closest to her honestly thought it was going to come crashing down on us, I won’t.  You had to be there for that or at least have video and I actually do have enough manners not to take pictures of people possibly embarrassing themselves, though I have to say that the lady in question was having fun and didn’t care who was looking and, thankfully, also did not turn it into a true pole dance.  For that, I’m sure everyone was grateful.

During the music I would look around now and then and observe what people were doing.  Mostly just milling about, kids running, friends greeting each other, and sadly for others, getting up to leave early. I mean, if they left before Saor Patrol came on then it was a huge mistake.  Such a great group to see live and such amazing power from the drummers.  As they were taking the stage and getting going, I looked off to my right and saw the lead singer of Seven Nations, Kirk McLeod, departing.  He’d hung around awhile, talking to the previously mentioned dancing fan and some other folks, but he’d now packed up his guitar and, with it slung over his shoulder, he was heading up a slight incline, most likely headed to his car and back to his hotel.  As I watched, he looked back once at what was happening on the stage, turned, and continued his slow and steady steps until he was out of my sight, hidden by the bushes.

The look on that man’s face spoke volumes to me.  I saw worlds flash in that face, in just those few minutes.  Maybe it was the dark night that surrounded him or the cast of the lighting from the aforementioned light pole as it hit his face.  I’m not sure, but he looked tired.  Pensive.  Resigned.  Peaceful.  So many different adjectives came to mind.  I wondered what was going through his mind at that moment, when I watched him do what looked like bid a farewell to the night and walk away with the resignation that one gig was over, but more were to come and perhaps there was no rest for the weary.  The slowness of his step, the look he cast over his shoulder.  Those made me feel like this was a man who has lived a lot in his life and he’s tired, at least for that night.  I wished he’d turn toward the crowd so I could have waved to him as in those few seconds, I felt like he needed a wave and a smile.   

Sad.  Contemplative.  Determined.  Just what was going on in your head Kirk?  Well, I’ll never know I suppose as we aren’t likely to cross paths again in this life except over a merchandise table at next year’s festival, but I am going to keep wondering. I can see his face in my mind and I can’t help wondering just what he was thinking.  Some say that it’s a woman’s nature to read into things much more than is there and I imagine I am doing that in this case.  It’s not like the man had had a bad night as a cheering crowd had greeted his band’s music with enthusiasm and perhaps he was truly tired and ready for sleep or relaxation with friends and family (my understanding is that the band got its start in my hometown which is only an hour away, so maybe he had people waiting on him for a visit).  As I said, I’ll never know, but his lone look back over his shoulder, the slow and steady pace with which he walked, the lighting of the night, it all came together to paint a lovely and interesting picture for me.  So I’ll go on wondering what was playing through his head every time his music plays through my speakers.  And I’ll be grateful for that one moment that he knows nothing about, but that I found oh so fascinating.