Retirement is severely overrated

Going to an Eric Clapton concert is always more than spending a couple of hours in blues heaven. Especially when you do it our way.

First, there's hanging with some of my favorite people on the planet. I was in EC Access for a couple years, found the people I liked, then left the fan club behind and was set for life after that.

So for Clapton's April out-of-retirement Madison Square Garden weekend stint, I got to take my Detroit friends -- Bruce and Renee -- to a Broadway play, namely Kevin Kline's Present Laughter. It hasn't officially opened on Broadway yet, and yeah, there are a few technical bugs and a bit of a dry patch near the end of the first act, but it was a great time. Truth be told, I wouldn't mind if Kline stood there and read us the phone book as long as he did it with the timing and inflection that are so inherent in his performances.

That was just for starters on a day with so much laughter, some truly dazzling Keens Steakhouse kabobs and many rum-based drinks (I had two doubles before I ever had anything to eat). On the way, I did exactly what I said I was afraid in last week's girl power blog -- I belted a song on the streets of New York. Then we were joined by Susan and Sam and Steve (aka Doc Proc). Then later, there was Tony and Lauren and Stephanie and Barry.

The saddest part of the afternoon was finding out Chuck Berry had passed. But even that turned into a celebration of the more positive aspects of a true legend -- including the memory of the first weekend I met Susan and Steve and Mark and they dragged me to see Berry at B.B. King's. How Doc Proc reflexively clamped down on my knee so hard when Chuck came out he almost left a mark. Speaking of Mark, that guy had yanked my f'n arm out of the socket when an invitation was issued for members of the audience to dance on stage. And how I must have been doing something right, 'cause Berry kind of stopped and jammed in front of me when there was a whole line of people doing the same on the stage. (Damn, Tony, I already can't recount it the way I did the other night.)

But that's what it's like when you hang with the E.C. gang, remembering times we've had as a group or portions of the group recounting tales to those of us who weren't there at the time.

For Monday's show, Sammy had unfortunately departed and Mark and Pam fortunately joined us. Thanks to Bruce, Park had sixth-row seats for the event and Doc Proc finagled his way to the open seat next to us. I sauntered up to the empty stage for a picture -- and ran into my co-worker's ex-roommate, her boyfriend and her parents. They were front row right in front of where Eric's mic. But I loved our seats.

The night featured a half-hour set by Mark's favorite Vaughan brother, Jimmie, on his 66th birthday and 45 minutes by one of the best guitarists out there right now -- Gary Clark Jr. Just incredible, and "the man" was still to come. Around this time I found out my cousin, Kristen, was also at the show with her co-workers, but by then, I was glued to my spot and had to miss out on some family time.

Clapton's set: Somebody Knocking, Key to the Highway, Hoochie Coochie Man, I Shot the Sheriff, Driftin', Nobody Knows You When You're Down and Out, Layla (acoustic), Tears In Heaven, Badge, Wonderful Tonight, Crossroads, Little Queen of Spades, Cocaine. Encore: Sunshine of Your Love, Before You Accuse Me (with Jimmie Vaughan and Gary Clark Jr.)

I was riding such a buzz, half from the atmosphere and half from my double, that I was waiting for "Key to the Highway" when we had already heard it. But not so out of it that I still couldn't recognize "I Shot the Sheriff" a couple of minutes before the rest of the crowd caught on.
It was fortuitous that I had donned my Cream sweatshirt, because my favorites of the night were probably those songs -- "Badge" (I was rocking out so hard I literally flipped my lid), "Crossroads" and "Sunshine of Your Love." The most poignant tune of the night had to be "Tears in Heaven." Doc Proc rightly pointed out it was the 26th anniversary of the loss of his son, Conor, which inspired the song. That reminded me of being at the shows on Eric's first tour following that tragedy -- the whole audience stood the whole time and listened so quietly and intently, applauding as E.C. finished each verse.

We were all guardedly optimistic after Clapton revealed last year that nerve damage had made playing the guitar a struggle for him. The fact that he's on the stage at all is a godsend, so I don't quibble about terse, pointed solos or a familiar set list. For years, he's gone with virtually the same songs, usually with a couple of alterations. Doing "Before You Accuse Me" with Vaughan and Clark was an inspired touch, and for me, a much better choice more-recent encore "High Time We Went."

After going over the show with the gang at Harrigan's, Mark and I headed back to the train station. Only to run into Doc Proc, who was waiting outside the Garden for bassist extraordinaire Nathan East. Was I shocked to get to meet him -- and to get hugs and kisses on top of that. You bet your sweet hoochie coochie I was. (Guys get handshakes, girls get hugs and kisses -- sometimes it's just really nice being a girl.)

I've seen Nathan play in Eric's band on and off for decades -- by the way, his opening to "Cocaine" that night just resonated into my belly -- so I was gobsmacked for about a minute before I joined in the conversation. We saw a great picture of Nathan's daughter, Sara, leaping a hurdle as she recently changed from gymnastics to track and field, and I said something about what a startling change that must have been for her. Gymnastics requires so much of your time and energy, and it had to be difficult for her to leave that behind.

There was stuff in there too about how great they sounded for the show and Doc Proc's trademark head on a stick, which has expanded to like 20 times its original size. Then I got to be in a shot too, thanks to Mark, and instead of "cheese" I asked him to hoot -- another callback to an era in which Nathan and Greg Phillinganes toured with Eric and Phil Collins and there were "whoo" cries sprinkled through many a number. I couldn't believe he did it, that just goes to show how nice of a guy he is.

What I totally forgot to do was tell him how much his song "Easy Lover" has meant to my Sestra and I over the years. How we always sang it together back in the day, how to this day, we do check-ins, messaging each other when we randomly hear it. We get to do this all again with E.C. in September, maybe I'll get another crack at that, and at the very least, another weekend of great music and great friends.

How should 'We' look at ourselves?

So while we're awaiting word of another season of The X-Files, David Duchovny is off playing rock star and Gillian Anderson is challenging the world.

Now that's oversimplifying things, but attending Gillian's book event at the Society for Ethical Culture on Monday really pointed out a certain disparity to me. Watch the video here. Anderson and Jennifer Nadel discussed their joint effort, We: A Manifesto for Women Everywhere, and they could really have something here. Could it be a Walden for our times? I'm sure they're not shooting that high, but if it promotes women taking closer at our needs and bringing that to discussion, maybe we could see some long-overdue shifting of norms in society.

The book starts with ways women can look closer at themselves. It's long been important to Gillian to compartmentalize the performer side of herself from her "real" life. When not in public persona, she said she doesn't put on makeup, her hair's in a ponytail and she's wearing black jeans and motorcycle boots. "Most of the time I'm just a mom," she said, adding that the "remnants of what sometimes seems like insanity" aren't really visible.

As a television news reporter, Nadel found she spent a lot off time conforming to men's ideals. "I didn't bring who I really was into the workplace," she said. "Each time I did that, I shaved away a little piece of who I was."

And that's the initial point of We -- women lie more to ourselves than anyone else. Anderson admitted she finds parenting really hard -- and that's not something that's usually talked about at all. But she's already experienced -- through the earliest returns of their book -- women thanking her for having the courage to say such a thing out loud. "It's not that one boy plus one boy equals two boys," Gillian said of her sons. "One boy plus one boy equals 10 boys. It's just a fact."

Then there are other issues that women don't traditionally talk about, such as Anderson's diagnosis of perimenopause, the hormonal transition to menopause. I personally learned about hot flashes by watching Cybill Shepherd's half-hour comedy, Cybill. I was just waiting to see how long it would be before I dumped a bucket of ice on myself. Now I have some more insight into internal changes just as relevant and evident as temperature swells.

With six children -- and five boys -- between them, Gillian and Jennifer have seen first-hand how boys start out tender and sensitive. But then they're sent out into the world and toughened up. So although We is pointedly aimed at women, men too might see the benefit of taking an inward journey.

The authors would just like to see more conversations about personal and global issues. "We can not counter hate with hate," Nadel said, adding that righteous indignation only gets people so far and doesn't actually address a problem. "We have to accept what is before we can do something about it."

And that starts small, within oneself. Jennifer gave an example that hit me right where I live. In school, she was told she was tone deaf. (Me too! Well, not told to my face, but excused from chorus had the same effect.) She was always skipped in class when it came time to sing, but now she sings out in public, whenever she feels like it. I'm not far enough along in the process that I'm ready for that, but I definitely appreciate her strength.

It's not as easy as it might sound, especially to an actress who thought that if she let go of some self-destructive tendencies that she would lose the edge to her talent. "That doesn't go away," Anderson said. "The tension between that and human existence can be so interesting."

But Gillian finds she still has to stand up for herself, even over 20 years after the start of the series that made her a household name. Early on in The X-Files, she was told to walk a few paces behind her co-star. "I found my way to his side, or maybe a little in front of him," she said. And just recently, when the show was revived a couple of years ago, Anderson was offered half of what co-star Duchovny made in his deal. No wonder the 11th season hasn't been set in stone yet.

So where will We go from here? I sure hope the top of the best sellers' list, but Gillian was pretty direct about it: "I don't know." As long as women turn to other women. "We can not leave it to politicians," Nadel said. "We need to stand shoulder to shoulder."

And I plan to do that, right after I face an important truth about myself. I'm in the city, it's not too late, and I really want some cheddar cheese popcorn from Garrett, even though that will turn my fingers orange for a couple days. Then I'll work on the rest, because for food for thought is even more important.