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The night before I left to see u2 in concert with my sister in Glasgow, my children knew there was a stressed tone in my voice. When they asked me what was wrong, I told them that I really did not want to do this, but that sometimes we do things for people we love. It is okay sometimes to let another choose part of the journey, I convinced myself. Heck, it is only one night, my sister bought the tickets, and she really wanted to go. I was not about to send her out into the crazy rock-world of a u2 concert by herself in a foreign place.

I had not been to a rock concert since U2's Joshua Tree tour. They are not my favorite band, I do not think I even have a favorite band, but I like their music. Since I left America 14 years ago, I am really out of touch with the music scene. In Cairo, I never even heard English-speaking music except for Michael Jackson and Celine Dion. Here in Scotland, I still can't find the radio stations that play the music I like. So, I have no idea about the contemporary rock scene and sound unless I read about it in the newspaper. So, going to this concert I felt out of place. I was more like an anthropological onlooker experiencing something foreign.

But I was surprised at how I remember the words to songs I have not heard in years.

I love music but I hate large crowds, the bass-beating beat that penetrates my precious ears and my heart, and the way people act in large crowds--especially singing as if no one is standing next to them, you know, the behavior that is probably best saved for showers. I don't know why this bothers my so much. I wish I was a singer, maybe even a rock star with long swishing blonde hair and a beautiful voice to harmonize with in song and music, heck, I even wish I was Bono. I love singing but I don't sing publically.

But lots of people did sing at the concert, including my sister. There was one moment when I wanted to sing, but I held back. It was when Bono backed away from the microphone and the crowd sang the first two verses of I still haven't found what I am looking for. I was still in my anthropological mode, examing how the people were moving and singing and arms waving high. It still felt foreign to me. But I knew the words, every word to that song. By the time the last chord was played, I wanted them to play it again so I could sing. That one song pushed me back from where I came. Any feeling of otherness subsided thanks to this rock song I loved as a teenager.

It is strange how easy it is to remember the words to a song you haven't heard in years. You know the beginning chord, when to pause, and when to breathe. And you have a pretty good idea what the song is about.

I am still not sure I have found what I am really looking for. I think I have my life figured out, and I think I know what I will focus on next, I set my goals, and then I remember a lost dream I had to be a potter or a writer or a folk singer and even a herbist. I never thought I wanted to be a rock star, but that would be fun too. I can't really do them all, can I?

I wish I was onstage singing that song because I remembered how much I like to sing. I also like what it means. I like the image of running through a field, scaling a wall, climbing a mountain to find something, to find a way of being, or way of touching, or a way of experiencing the world. I like that song because it makes me want to sing. It makes me remember the idealistic time in my life when I could be anything.