It's early evening on Townsend Common, a manicured square of green grass and towering oaks at the heart of this 300-year old town in Northern Massachusetts. Two churches, one of white clapboard, one of brick, punctuate the turquoise and pink evening sky. The bunting on the local tavern across the street, quivers in the gentle breeze.
In the gingerbread green and white band shell, the Townsend Military band tumbles through John Philip Sousa and George Gershwin. Their rotund band leader shivers with joy as each piece builds to a crescendo. A toddler, braced by his broadshouldered dad, clings to the railing for an upclose view of his mother playing Bassoon. 
Out on the grass, as the light fades and the lamps create pools of warm yellow light, the fresh-faced teens gather in clusters to flirt and tussle. Their younger siblings run foot-races through the adults, who are settled comfortably into folding lawn chairs and sprawled on blankets and munch contentedly on fried dough, cotton candy and giant pretzels.
There's a gentle current of low conversation and staccato laughter that mingles with the brassy music of the band. Neighbours catch up, boys challenge, girls exclaim, children shout.
This is the Thursday Band Concert on Townsend Common. The lead-up to the Fourth of July. A Norman Rockwell vision of a tranquil town, where people connect without electronics, teens wear belts and hear without earbuds, and the band plays Sousa until the sun sets and the children begin to yawn.
In the gingerbread green and white band shell, the Townsend Military band tumbles through John Philip Sousa and George Gershwin. Their rotund band leader shivers with joy as each piece builds to a crescendo. A toddler, braced by his broadshouldered dad, clings to the railing for an upclose view of his mother playing Bassoon. 
Out on the grass, as the light fades and the lamps create pools of warm yellow light, the fresh-faced teens gather in clusters to flirt and tussle. Their younger siblings run foot-races through the adults, who are settled comfortably into folding lawn chairs and sprawled on blankets and munch contentedly on fried dough, cotton candy and giant pretzels.
There's a gentle current of low conversation and staccato laughter that mingles with the brassy music of the band. Neighbours catch up, boys challenge, girls exclaim, children shout.
This is the Thursday Band Concert on Townsend Common. The lead-up to the Fourth of July. A Norman Rockwell vision of a tranquil town, where people connect without electronics, teens wear belts and hear without earbuds, and the band plays Sousa until the sun sets and the children begin to yawn.
