I grew up in Texas, reared by midwestern farmers who didn’t believe in anything you can’t see, taste, smell, hear or touch (except God, of course).
So imagine my reaction to last year’s Lullaby Moon, a mystical and magical performance I happened to stumble upon at Gas Works Park.
To set the scene: the south side of kite hill was covered with people sitting on blankets and nibbling on picnic fare. They faced the green space between the hill and the water, as if the grass would become a stage (it would!). A small live band played classical tunes while …