Tapping toes and river rafting

The week before Thanksgiving is way too early to be singing Christmas carols.

Way too early.

But there I was Wednesday night at the Show Me Center with my foot tapping to the Trans-Siberian Orchestra's "O Holy Night."

I'm not a toe-tapping fellow most of the time.

I went to the TSO concert because a lot of people made bold promises that I would like the music.

No, they said I would be wild about the music.

How many of you can picture me wild about much of anything?

A few years ago, my wife switched to a new brand of bath soap, and a bar soon found its way to my shower. I remember that was quite a ruckus. Other than that, I'm not really all that wild.

And keep in mind that my wife and I are early to bed and early to rise, not because of our Puritan ethic or anything like that, but because we both have jobs and like to be able to pay our bills.

My official bedtime is about 9 p.m., but I'm usually dozing off for my first nap of the evening by 7:30 or 8. So going to a concert -- a rock concert, at that -- starting at 7:30 p.m. has all the makings of embarrassing snoring while others are shakin' and movin'.

Boy. I didn't have to worry about that. TSO has so much energy that you feel it, even if you thought you wouldn't.

TSO's music zips along at the pace of the best chase scene in your favorite suspense movie. Yes, there are a few crashes and screeches along the way, but at no time is the volume so high that you are reminded of the generation in which you exist.

Speaking of generations, every single one was well-represented at the TSO concert. And everyone seemed to be having a great time.

I'm telling you all of this because if you weren't one of the more than 4,000 members of the audience, you might want to make plans for next year. TSO's reception in Cape Girardeau was well beyond expectations, and this savvy group will want to come back as much as we want them to return.

Wednesday's weather was just about perfect in Cape Girardeau. Here we were, only a week before the Great Turkey Eating Frenzy, and the mild temperatures and bright sunshine were too good to pass up.

So I took my lunch to one of my favorite spots: Riverfront Park.

If others shared my appreciation of a fine fall day, they found other ways to express it. I had the entire park to myself for my entire lunch. Just me and the river.

There was only the slightest breeze, which made the park bench even more comfortable. I would have gladly spent the afternoon whittling and spitting if I could have, dreaming of floating on a raft -- no, make that a cabin cruiser with a toilet and well-stocked galley -- and letting the current take me wherever it wants.

I've always longed to spend some time with the crew of a tugboat with its string of barges.

This week's New Yorker magazine has the next best thing: a fine essay about a Paducah-based crew -- including Gene Diebold from Benton, Mo. -- that operates mostly on the Illinois River.

It's one of the finest descriptions of river life I've ever encountered. If you'd like a trip on the river from the comfort of your very own La-Z-Boy, get the magazine and take off.

R. Joe Sullivan is the editor of the Southeast Missourian.