Yawn. No big essay today, just some random notes. First, a quick review of the two-part PBS show on God, Freud and C.S. Lewis that finished last night. I’d give it a B plus. On the negative side, the roundtable discussions with Dr. Armand Nicholi, a Harvard shrink who came up with the idea for the show, went on too long and didn’t go anywhere. I go to a weekly roundtable discussion called Socrates Cafe, where people talk about this, that and everything else (so long as it’s politically-correct everything), and it’s pretty much the same. However, at least you get a sense of fellowship at the Cafe. When you have to watch a rambling conversation on TV, it gets to be a drag. But everything else about the show was excellent. The best part was when the actors playing Freud and Lewis went face to face, exchanging polite barbs while giving each other very dubious looks. You could imagine that really happening, given the very different wavelengths that Sigmund and C.S. were on.

After watching the show (and mostly ignoring the roundtable sessions with the doc), I found myself on the fence about the existence of God. But actually, I had a fence experience on Saturday night that helped to keep me from falling into the backyard of atheistic despair. There was an outdoor concert at a minor-league baseball park not too far from my house that day, and the main act was Leonard Skynyrd. I heard a DJ on the local radio station say that Skynyrd would go on around 7:30 PM, so I decided to go out for a jog at about that time, figuring I’d schlep past the stadium around 8 and would hear some tuneage on the pass-by. I got there and guess what? No tuneage. Some kid in the parking lot was telling his friend on the cellphone that Skynyrd was going on in 10 minutes. I circled the lot a few times and nothing happened, so I got disgusted and started for home. Of course, just as I cleared the lot I could hear the major applause and the guitars and drums revving up. Time for a big turn around, o ye of little faith.

I got by the gate and saw a couple of people hanging out, enjoying that live Southern rock and getting a partial view of the stage to boot. Believe it or not, the nearby cops and security forces weren’t hassling anyone for freeloading on the entertainment, so I joined them in the chill of an unexpected cold front on the last weekend of summer. I didn’t dwell on the fact that I was probably older than many of these kids’ parents. Nobody was bothering me and the music was good, so what the heck.

And then, half way thru the show, something incredible happened. Security just threw open the gates, and my fellow freeloaders and I all strolled into the stadium for a better view. I just stood there, incredulous, sure that those young, beefy guys with the black shirts were gonna yell and chase me half way home as soon as I started for the steps. Meanwhile, Skynyrd was cranking its way into “Give Me Three Steps”. So I took three or four steps myself, and surprise, surprise, no comment whatsoever from the gendarme. Guess it’s a free concert! I didn’t go down too far, settling on a nice mezzanine with a straight-ahead view of the stage. Hey, there I was at a rock concert again – something that I hadn’t done in at least 10 years, and something that I didn’t figure I’d ever be able to do again after the gray hairs started taking over. I stayed to the end, knowing that the encore was going to be “Freebird”. And indeed it was.

Hey, this was in New Jersey where nice stuff hardly ever happens, especially in big-money entertainment venues. I still don’t know what got into those security guys to just open the gates like that and let the rif-raf (like me) in, knowing full well that the show was gonna go at least another 45 minutes. Can it be that C.S. Lewis was right and Freud was wrong after all? Actually, Skynyrd seems to agree with Lewis – recall the line from “Simple Man”, regarding a certain “someone up above”. A rather old-fashioned theology, but a theology none the less.