I took my daughter Robin and a few of her friends to see Green Day last night. What a gas. It was Robin’s first real concert – she had been to see Catch 22 and a few other small ska bands at a Portland club, but this was her first big-venue concert. I don’t know what it speaks to – how tame rock and roll has gotten, how cool we adults have gotten – but it was great to see so many ages digging the show. Robin and her friends, at 14, were among the youngest, but I sat next to a middle-aged mom and her son, both singing along, pumping fists in the air, both behaving like rock and roll fans. There was a guy across the aisle who was clearly older than me, with white hair and beard. I thought at first he was chaperoning some younger people, but he was singing along, obviously involved and enjoying the music. We middle-aged people are maybe the first generation of parents who can listen to the same music our kids listen to. My son Benzo has turned me on to a lot of great music, and routinely calls me into his room to play me a song, or show me a video on his computer. How cool is that.