Anticipation is at least one-quarter of the joy of any event | MARK HUGHES COBB

If there's any pushmepullyou trap we can't live without more massive than gravity, it's nostalgia.

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Everything's in the past, so literally all we know can be labeled history. Try as science-fiction and fantasy dreamers might, there's only then and now, setting framework for sweet 'n' fluffy dreams of tomorrow.

Partici...patory audience events ― such as the Pink Box Burlesque's 16th annual "Rocky Horror" show Oct. 28 at the Bama Theatre ― thrill with anticipation. Anticipation can be enchanting, assuming it's not the horror-struck kind before a repair estimate, the microsecond before you find that joke you just threw up lands with either a splat or a whoopee, or what comes after the sighing intake of breath on "We need to talk."

Having things to look forward to, like the 52nd annual Kentuck Festival of the Arts, Oct. 14-15 in Northport's Kentuck Park, boosts joy, lowers stress and rocks like a hurricane, the kind that whimpers and snuffs out before landfall, only tumbling over sopping TV weathermen who haven't yet learned about green screen technology.

It's not for clicks we post upcoming events in our weekly calendars ― OK, it's for clicks, but not JUST for clicks ― but because I'm not immune to joyfully visualizing things into being. This summer, The Rude Mechanicals were playing a couple of John Prine numbers pre-show, and then, coincidentally, I heard from pal Doff Procter that Christ Episcopal Church is holding an unusual outdoor service, at The Venue Tuscaloosa on Aug. 30, built around some of Prine's songs, including "Happy Enchilada." If you were there, you get it.

Also coming up just this week, the annual celebration of the late great Johnny Shines, an all-day extravaganza Saturday at Belk Activity Center; The Prize Inside at the Lookout; Moon Taxi at Druid City Music Hall; book events, outdoor events and family-friendly events at The Venue and elsewhere.

If you're up for the Magic City, the fabulous Sidewalk Film Festival enters the blockbuster weekend of its 25th annual, a hypnotic swirl of animated, live, documentary, narrative, short, long, whatnot and whatfor that will satiate even the most fervid movie nut, aka me when I was young enough to span an entire weekend.

Speaking of movies, you ever go to the theater early and enjoy trailers so enticing you literally forget, by the time the lights fall fully down, what it was you came to see? Anticipation ain't just a Latin/Middle English conglomerate of waiting for, thinking about and feeling a thing yet to come, meaning roughly "take before," and also possibly linked to the musical term for a tone that precedes and introduces a chord to come.

For example, the twinned D-note "Call me!" line in Blondie/Debbie Harry/Giorgio Moroder's "American Gigolo"-birthed hit, anticipates the D minor (made of D, F and A) about to slam down on the chorus, just before "... on the line." Class dismissed. Go brag to your folks ― or kids ― you learned something semi-esoteric today.

Longer term, there are literal upcoming events in our calendars, things not falling in this week, but noted well in advance so you can plan, buy tickets, hire babysitters, arrange for naps, brace your Visa, and oh yeah, find sublime joy in looking ahead. Things like Amphitheater concerts, the beginning of the TSO season, and ... nostalgia. Back to the future-past, after strange interludes from history.

When we were still Dothan kids, and Atlanta seemed faraway, a royal-blue (in my Braves-cap-wearing head) rollicking version of Oz's Emerald City, my big brother Scotty and I drew up plans for weekends there, in part because time was short, so if you're going to fit in at least one Braves game ― whenever possible, a doubleheader ― a full run of every ride at Six Flags, and maybe a hike up Stone Mountain or journey into Underground Atlanta, you know, for the old folks, strategies pay. We drew cartoon forms that were probably a bit unflattering to our anticipated brevity (Hey, dads gotta dad), being pre-teens with little concept of the values of money and time, except that, on an anticipated trip, neither should be wasted. If you pay to ride, ride while you can, man.

A decade or so later, my then-girlfriend and I planned a spring break trip to Disney World, a bit out of budget, so planning was necessary. We teamed with two other friend-couples, folks we'd hung with, and in my case, played in a couple of band projects with. Good folks. Easygoing. Seemed as psyched about traveling to the Wonderful World o' Disney, sans parental units, as we did.

We started talking DW up, I recall, early as the summer before, nailing down best time (spring break; a few of us were in college), where to stay, how to travel (two cars, though with state-of-the-art CB to stay in touch, for bathroom stops, and other exigencies and emergencies), how much we'd need, and yadda yadda.

We both scrimped and saved. One of us found significant ticket and lodging discounts through her employer. Some of us temporarily gave up drinking; no great loss, as we were mostly past youthful woo-hoo! stages anyway, but every $2.69 not spent on a six-pack was $2.69 put toward EPCOT. We saved Christmas or birthday gift money; we thought thrice before spending money eating out, or doing anything, really. The six of us gathered junk and unloaded it in a garage sale, pouring communal earnings into a jar, to pay off as much as possible in advance.

As I found with my more recent trip to Orlando, in 2016, paying it all off in advance? That definitely builds anticipation glow.

Psychology Today reports four stages to truly digging the most out of a thing:

• Anticipating.

• Savoring. The now now NOW of it all.

• Expression. Sharing used to be a stale joke, the one about neighbors dragging out endless slideshows of vacation, one for which you were not invited to join. Social media saved us. Now you can bore the crap out of/make envious everybody who's not there as you're still ON the journey.

• Reflection. This is the argument for recording on pocket computer-library-multimedia-creation devices, and buying ears, stuffed beasts and gizmos, though No. 2 still should outweigh Nos. 3 and 4. Unless you're nostalgic.

Back when my knees were still knees, not throbbing obstacles; I ran 5 miles every morning or noon, then played competitive racquetball afternoons. Ah, remember college? Having spare time? And energy? Pre-DW, I stepped up, PAI, even more, like I was training for a Mouse World marathon. Got in the best shape of my life, in part because I thought I'd look better in vacation photos. Alas, even extra-healthy, I still possessed a visage unloved by cameras.

On arrival, myself and the GF, who'd also gotten into running, hummed like energized bunnies, up and toddling by dawn. Our fellow travelers, who had not chosen a sober route, needed a little a.m. coaxing. Tickets gave us early entry, though, so the pair of us were up and sprinting across EPCOT before the sun could burn, savoring every minute of that long-anticipated week.

In 2016, I traveled with Porkchop, the kind of fit that hikes the Appalachian Trail without breaking a sweat. We walked 10 to 12 miles a day, just inside parks. All paid for in advance, so the lead-up, the anticipation, was pure joy.

As neither of us is fond of being in photos, I shot surroundings, and posted on Facebook a series called "I Met Neil Patrick Harris at Disney World!" — A pal had shared that NPH and family were down in the DW same time as us — with images of our favorite waiter, Frank; Ariel the mermaid holding a sign for Mel's niece Lucy (Lucy's shared appreciation: "Dat's cool. Did her write dat?"); a steering-wheel-sized pretzel from the Germany pavilion; stacked-high desserts; the key-biting dog from Pirates of the Caribbean; a teeming aquarium; a pants-free duck; grim grinning ghosts and anything else that looked nothing in the least like NPH. While I'm all too comfortable disappointing friends, I will whenever possible choose to make their lives 98.4% more farcical.

Speaking of the surreal, here's more to anticipate from a future nostalgia event: It'll be 20 years this Halloween since The Chukker turned out its last post-dawn reveler. To celebrate, commemorate, and possibly obliterate, on Oct. 27-28 there'll be a two-day Chukker Weekender at Druid City Brewing Co., with live music from formerly live bands, poetry, comedy, visual arts, yoga and more Chukker Nation-style stuff. Among those playing: Club Wig, the Penetrators, the Irascibles, Model Citizen, Sweat Bee, the Crying Jags, Henri's Notions, the Dexateens, the DTs, Instant Karma, Blip, Hooper and more. There'll be solos and duos, a lot of sounds and people you mighta loved, and a few empty chairs I'm sure we'll sing over, and about.

Just as every step, every lift and leap, challenges gravity, so does anyone interested in the only-now that is creation, the improv game of life, fight nostalgia like it just insulted their dog.

But evenings in autumn, as with nights in general, it can be invigorating to fall awhile, to give in for a bit, collapse into something that you know, from experience, will cradle and comfort you until the next light of day.

Reach Tusk Editor Mark Hughes Cobb at mark.cobb@tuscaloosanews.com.

This article originally appeared on The Tuscaloosa News: Anticipation looking forward nostalgia travel joy | MARK HUGHES COBB