The Who play the Super Bowl: My mother would have understood...

My dear departed mother loved Elvis Presley. Ironic given the fact Elvis longed for his mother for so many years after she died.

My mother loved Elvis when she was growing up in Nashville,Ontario ( that too is ironic). She loved Elvis long after she married my father, had two sons and moved all over the province for my dad's job. She loved Elvis even after he got fat, dressed like a circus freak and took his show to Vegas. She even loved him after he blew his heart out with a variety of prescription drugs. I didn't get it, but hey, it wasn't my place to understand why some people loved the King after all that time.

I guess it was my three daughter's turn to wonder why I wanted to watch The Who perform last Sunday at the Super Bowl halftime.

I loved them growing up after purchasing "Who's Next" in Grade 8. I loved them after buying "Quadrophenia" in cassette. I loved them after buying " Who's Next" on red vinyl (!) while I worked at a pub in Ottawa. Yes, and I still loved them after Keith and John both blew out their heart's out a variety of prescription and illegal drugs, respectively.

As I watched Roger and Pete work their tired legs around the gauche stage constructed for their gig, I finally saw what my mother saw: It wasn't the fact they were old, it was the fact we were all old together. I didn't see them through the myopic,skeptical eyes of my baby girls, but rather saw them as link to all our misspent, ill used youth. Yes they are old, but they were once young and they should command some sort or respect for all the great music they gave us.

I could care less what anyone says. I enjoyed the show. And I know my mother would understand that.