Saving the Indigo Girls
So back sometime in the late eighties the Indigo Girls were a little known folk rock group popular in women’s and lesbian circles. And to me. Passionate music on acoustic guitars, music to my ears raised on the Dubliners and Clancy Brothers.
So when I heard that they were doing a concert at Jones Beach I was totally pumped up that my wife and I, and a bunch of graduate students in her program (all lesbian) go.
It got bumped from Jones Beach for a Billy Joel concert, but just moved to a field on Long Island, same times. No worries, except that that day the weather was kind of threatening. We went anyway, and found that the more expensive tickets were covered by a tent, but our tickets were outside.
The Indigo Girls came on, and we were having a great time, with storm clouds gathering. Eventually the rain started, and started growing into a cloudburst. Emily called us to squash in so everyone was covered by the tent, joking once we were all in that it was like a revival meeting. Great times, memories are made of this.
But danger awaited. The cloudburst lasted a long time, and the rain got louder and louder. I noticed that the canvas above the stage was bellying down as water built up on it.
There is a folk story about a concert in a field in England where the singer was holding an ungrounded mic, and standing in a puddle, was killed by a lightning strike. I pointed out what was happening to my party, but they were dismissive, what could we do about it.
What could I do about it? I threaded myself through the mushed together audience up to the speakers where there was a roadie. Too loud to talk, I just pointed to the growing mass of water, ponding directly above the Indigo Girls and guest singer Joan Baez.
Without exchanging a word he grabbed a broom and started pushing the water from underneath, joined by all the other roadies. I guess that they all knew the story of the killer microphone.
When the concert was over I was the hero to my friends. They even dubbed me an honorary lesbian.
