It's not Pop music, but Dad still gets down

I am standing in the middle of a 700-acre farm in rural Tennessee on a hellishly hot and muggy Saturday afternoon in June. No fewer than 80,000 people -- the vast majority anywhere between 18 and 30 -- are in the open field with me.

The feeling is a little like being at Jones Beach on the Fourth of July. Without the beach, and certainly without the water. And I am an aging baby boomer.

About a football field away, there is a giant stage. On it is a band I have never heard of, Clap Your Hands Say Yeah. Not only that, I can't make out a word they are singing. Most kids are clapping along. Others are lying near or on top of one another. A few others are losing their lunches after one too many beers, or something inhaled or swallowed.

I can smell pizza, burnt hot dogs and portable toilets that you are not supposed to be able to smell.

I am at Bonnaroo, the oddly named music and arts festival. It features rock, pop, jazz, blues, electronica and rap in the middle of nowhere -- a farm in Manchester, Tenn., about an hour's drive south of Nashville.

In case you're wondering, Bonnaroo is a Cajun slang word meaning "a really good time." And it is, too. Mostly.

All you need is patience, water and shade. And it helps a lot to be young. Or at least to have a heart that's still young.

With all of the fresh young faces, college T-shirts and tattooed bodies surrounding me, I have a sneaking suspicion that I might stand out a bit. The tip-off came in a conversation I had with a young man in his 20s, who, it turns out, was raised in Far Rockaway, not far from where I grew up.

"I bet you knew my grandmother," the young man said.

So back to my question: What am I doing here?

Despite my feelings of alienation, I have been down this hilly road in backwoods Tennesse before. In fact, twice before. I came for the first time in 2004, because my son, Jake -- then 16 -- desperately wanted to go and couldn't go without me.

All he worried about was getting to see all the bands he wanted to see.

I mostly worried about where my next bottle of water was coming from.

But I was there for Jake, to share an experience -- good or bad -- with him, to have memories, to bond a little in the mountains of one of America's most beautiful states. I even learned some survival skills that first year, like making sure to pack the Pepto-Bismol and avoid spicy food on those hot, hot days.

I learned more the next year, mostly that I am no longer much good at pulling all-nighters.

Last month, I grew to understand a few other things: I am not 20 anymore, I can fully empathize with the tribulations of Yankee pitcher Randy Johnson, and one more -- the old V signs we used to make at peace rallies and concerts will only get you quizzical looks from kids these days.

Yet, there were times when being older was a plus.

One evening, Jake and I headed to the parking lot to find our rental car. After searching for 20 minutes, we concluded it was stolen. Just then, a woman came up to us and said our car -- and hers and seven others -- were towed. Towed? I parked in exactly the spot I was told to park. Someone decided that these nine cars were illegally parked. Without making any attempt to inform the owners, the cars were towed at least 10 miles away. We were told that to get our car back, we would have to find our way there and pay a $150 towing charge, plus $10 tax.

Was I livid? Yes. Did I explode? Yes.

I was not like another younger festival-goer, who, upon learning her car was towed, shrugged and said, "I'm going back to hear Radiohead. I'll deal with this whenever." I looked like I meant business. I insisted on seeing the head of security, and after several hours of back-and-forth, I got an apology and my car back, at no charge.

I was taken seriously, frankly, because I looked old.

There is much to learn at Bonnaroo, about yourself and the people around you. Perhaps the biggest surprise to me came when I realized how much time I was spending feeling self-conscious about the fact I was from another generation.

Some young people may have given me a glance. Most did not. They were too busy enjoying themselves, something that, despite my age and experience in life, I was just beginning to do.