I'm a sucker. So when my 15-year-old daughter Kate asked if I'd take her to a concert, she knew I'd say yes.
It didn't matter that the concert was in St. Louis. It didn't matter I'd never heard of the band. It didn't matter that gas was almost $5 a gallon. Actually, that did matter, but I bit the bullet anyway.
You see, my family operates under the firm belief that there are two kinds of people in this world: those who prefer the quiet and those who prefer the carnival. That's probably one of the reasons my wife and I married so quickly after meeting; we couldn't wait for the carnival ride to begin.
So, almost 30 years later, we have six kids, with three out of college and one about to start his freshman year, leaving the house a little smaller with just Kate and her sister Kaela joining my wife and me. The only downside to having a large family is that one-on-one time is fleeting. The upside is that we make up for that by traveling to faraway places to see bands I've never heard of.
"What do you think?" I asked my wife after Kate first proposed the trip.
"Oh, I think you should go. I'll just stay here with a 7-year-old, clean house, and pick up after the dogs. But y'all have fun."
I ignored her air quotes around that last sentence. "I'm just doing it for Kate," I replied with a smile.
"Oh, I forgot, you're Dad of the Year. Enjoy the baseball game. I'll be here holding down the fort."
I froze, impressed and a little worried she knew I had already scouted the Cardinals' schedule.
Kate and I left for St. Louis on a Friday morning, leapfrogging storms and avoiding most of the traffic on U.S. 67.
At Corning, we stopped to get gas and lottery tickets. "The winners always come from a small town," I told Kate. "This improves my chances."
Kate smiled politely in the way teenage girls do that really says, "You're an idiot, dad."
We rolled into St. Louis right before dinner. "I'd like to get to the concert at least two hours early so we can get up front."
"Kate," I said knowingly, "This band, The Wallows ..."
"Wallows."
"That's what I said."
"No, you said The Wallows. It's just Wallows."
"They're a verb?"
"Don't be a teacher today, Dad."
"Fair. This band, Wallows, is small-time. The venue is small. There won't be a line. Doors open at 7, so we'll enjoy dinner and get there about 6:30." Kate begrudgingly gave in.
We ate a nice dinner then headed to the concert. I didn't have to consult Siri for directions because about a mile away I could see 1,000 teenagers wrapped around the venue in a line stretching to the interstate.
Kate didn't say a word, but folded her arms across her chest in that way her mother does when she's annoyingly right and I'm predictably wrong.
Once in, Kate said, "Dad, let's go up to the very front--right in front of the stage."
I looked over her head at the mass of people waiting for the concert to start. It looked like cheerleader tryouts with hundreds of teenage girls excitedly grouped together.
"Nope, I'm good over here. You go ahead. I can see you from where I'm standing." Kate didn't argue and I watched as she wormed her way through the crowd. Soon, a text arrived.
"I'm at the very front! You should come, there's a dad here!"
I texted back, "Please stay away from the guy who looks like a dad."
Wallows is a high-energy band and I found myself nodding my head in time with their music. It wasn't bad at all.
I looked to my right at the line of moms standing near me. I looked to my left and noticed more moms. As the band erupted into a fast-paced song, two women--I guess they were moms--started dancing. I watched in combined admiration and horror. Admiration because they didn't care that their gyrations, jumps, and acrobatics were on full display like something from a "Saturday Night Live" skit. Horror because they didn't care that their gyrations, jumps, and acrobatics were on full display like something from a "Saturday Night Live" skit.
Kate came straight to me once the concert ended, beaming at the excitement. I found myself a little proud that I had that experience with her.
The next morning, we toured the Gateway Arch, ate barbecue for lunch, and found our seats as the Cardinals played the Reds at Busch Stadium. Kate was patient with the game, enjoying the atmosphere and asking questions about the rules of play. Music blared, people cheered, and the smell of food and drinks rose. "It's like a carnival in here," she said.
Between innings, I called my wife. "What's up?" I asked.
"Oh, you know, just cleaning dog throw-up off the carpet. You?"
I watched Kate as she smiled at the mascot's antics. She looked so much like her mother, so gifted in the ability to roll with the punches with humor and ease. I really enjoyed our time together, I thought. It's so good to know your kids--to really understand who they are and where they're heading. That fact seems so easy to lose in these over-scheduled days, but there, in St. Louis, I had a great reminder. Finally, I answered my wife.
"Still enjoying the ride," I said.
Steve Straessle is the principal of Little Rock Catholic High School for Boys. You can reach him at sstraessle@lrchs.org. Find him on Twitter @steve_straessle. "The Strenuous Life" appears every other Saturday.