Hello and happy Sunday funday. [Blogged while actually falling sleep.] This is a story of my experience seeing Chicago live. And wowza, shit was amazing. All nine band members on that stage played instruments (some multiple because #talent) and most sang. I was blown away by what a difference this show was compared to other shows I’ve seen. Ones that are filled with bubble gum lyrics, auto-tune vocals and half-naked dancers. These guys’ passion for music was palpable and, to me, nothing is better than watching people do what they love. How cool that a band that started in 1967 is still touring and making music. It’s inspiring, really. Watching people live their dream.

As one of three people under the age of 40 in attendance, I realized I was the one who was out of place. Yeah, I like their music, but the people around me had been loyal fans since the ’60s. And watching as they sang, danced and cheered before, during and after every song (not to mention the very long post-show standing ovation), I couldn’t help but smile. Because I knew this was bringing everyone in the audience back to a time when they were maybe a little younger and a little more carefree. There’s something so special about that. About tapping in to times when you felt most alive. It sort of brings perspective on life come full circle.

As the crowd leaped from their chairs, drinks in hand, and sang every word to Saturday in the Park, I realized that, sure, we may age. But we never really get old, do we?