At Winfield, on one of the small stages last week, I saw a kind of audience thoughtlessness I had never seen before. The performer was Efram (last name unknown to me) who had won the previous year's songwriting contest. He was had just finished a song backed up by two musicians when a woman appeared at the foot of the stage and engaged him in conversation.

W: Where is (name of group forgotten)? They're supposed to be here at 10:30.

E: I don't know. But it isn't ten thirty yet. (In fact it was ten minutes after ten)

W: It certainly is ten thirty. Where are they?

E: Well, if you will wait until 10:30, they'll probably be right here.

W: They're suppposed to be here now. If you'd get off the stage, they'd play.

At this point, the sound man stepped forward from the console, walkd over to the intruder and steered her to the side of the bleachers. I could here him saying the the group that she wanted would be starting in about twenty minutes but in the meantime they she could go sit with them. He turned her over to the group oto which she had professed such devotion. I'll bet they weren't too excited to meet their "fan".

Sourdough