Last week, I went to a rock concert with my parents.

Sounds like an embarrassing teenage nightmare, right? It actually was kind of cool.

I’ve been concerts with my parents before, but they usually featured more symphonies than rock anthems. I played violin in an orchestra and both of my sisters were in the high school band. I’m guessing my parents enjoyed hearing us play, but an amateur sing-a-long performance of Handel’s “Messiah” is not an event most people buy tickets to months in advance (No offense to die-hard Handel fans).

My dad’s music tastes run more classic rock than classical. One band he really loves is Kansas. He’s been listening to their music since before I was born and has told me more than once about the time he met two of the band members. He’s a particular fan of the drummer, Phil Ehart, because he also plays the drums. I’ve listened to my dad play along with Kansas’s Leftoverture album so many times I can probably identify “Carry On My Wayward Son” just by hearing the drum part.

So when he bought tickets to the recent Kansas concert at the RiverCenter and asked if I wanted to go with him, I couldn’t refuse. Here was a chance to see what all the fuss was about. If anything, here was a chance to watch a bunch of 50-somethings sing along off-key to “Dust in the Wind,” and then write about it.

But as the date of the concert drew nearer, I started to worry. How would my dad act at the concert? And more importantly, would his actions embarrass me? Since the band was playing at a concert hall, not an open field, I was pretty sure there wouldn’t be any mosh pit antics, but that didn’t mean my dad wouldn’t sing along, or do that weird head-bobbing thing guys do when they can’t dance. Would he shout out the names of songs he wanted to hear? Just how big of a fan was he?

I know these worries sound selfish, but I couldn’t help it. I think we all have a little bit of that insecure teenager left in us. It’s the part of you that worries about things like looking uncool at a party and wonders if your parents will show up to a concert dressed like aging hippies.

At dinner before the concert, my dad talked about all his Kansas-related memories -- this first time he ever heard a Kansas song on the radio, the concerts he went to, and which songs he thought they would play that night. At the concert he drummed along on his knee to every song, scrambled after one of the signed drumsticks Ehart threw into the crowd and lined up at the end of the concert for autographs.

It was funny to see him so excited, because it was the same way I get excited about seeing my favorite bands in concert. He’s my dad, but it turns out, he’s also a fellow music fan. And that’s actually kind of cool.

--Contact Sara Pauff at 706-320-4469 or spauff@ledger-enquirer.com. For more commentary, read her 20-something blog