I was only 16, a geek back before "geek" meant what it does now, and my interests were elsewhere besides rock and roll.

But last month I went to see the Beach Boys, including a couple of original members, out at the outdoor stage of the Mountain Winery.

Mike Love introduced his family in the audience, including at least one grandkid, and started the show.

When they eventually launched into "When I Grow Up To Be a Man," the lyrics were about a young songwriter wondering what his life would be like someday. "Will I joke around and still dig those sounds? Will my kids be proud or think their old man is really a square?" Well, the answer was right there in front of us. Mike's kids and grandkids were cheering him on.

All around, people were standing up and dancing. A little girl, a relative of someone in the band, was right at the foot of the stage and never stopped dancing through the whole show. They must have fed her a pound of sugar ahead of time.

Even people my age and older were clapping, singing along, and dancing. My wife, despite her MS, was up and rocking her best, a big smile on her face. She fights the beast every day of her life, and I'm so damned proud of her.

A few seats to my right, in the handicapped section, an elderly round grandmother type got up and started to dance in place. She had some really good moves. Unlike my wife she wasn't smiling--her face had the serious look of someone focused on making a very old body do something it used to do with ease a long time ago.

But just for a moment, I could see the young girl buried in that old body who had rocked on the beach to this music when it was new, and probably broke a dozen hearts before the summer was over.