For the past few weeks many parents' calendars have been chock-full of end-of-the-year concerts, recitals and other school shows.
The other night we had a substitute teacher for our Kennett Y class because our usual instructor was on a Friday-evening date with her husband (minus the kids) to see Martin Sexton at the Queen in Wilmington. I explained this to a fellow class member.
"You mean . . . a real concert?" she asked, incredulously. "Not a kid concert?"
She looked off into the distance, wistfully, as if remembering those long-ago days.
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