I made the mistake of saying that moving to Texas had gotten us out of the house more than we used to in Williamsburg. “So you want to go to the free concert in Zilker Park tomorrow night?” Don asked.
“Umm, well … I guess so,” was my lukewarm reply. After all, it was Sunday night and we had just returned from Austin, where Meg and I had taken in Ballet Austin’s Nutcracker matinee. Christmas was only five days away and I had a long list of things to do.
On a cool Austin evening, we joined the long line of cars queuing into Zilker Park, drawn by the tree of lights and the promise of free entertainment by Asleep at the Wheel, with a hoped-for guest appearance by Shawn Colvin.
There were throngs of people and a festive air, enlivened by the heady aroma of kettle corn and the flickering lights of toy swords purchased from vendors and wielded by tiny hands. After listening to the music for awhile, Meg suggested we walk through the light displays, which were scaled back from years past. Not that I would have known. It was a Grand Illumination, Texas style.
We walked into a wonderland, greeted by Maurice Sendak’s Max,