At the New Year every we reminisce of occurrences during the twelve months just passed. Every year hold heart ache, triumph, and big events that affect our lives. Sometimes it is little moments compounded as they replicate day after day that define the overall tone of the year for us. We work long hours away from home to complete a never ending task list, raise a newly born child with endless diaper changing and feedings loving every new coo, our hearts break again fresh each day mourning the physical loss of a person who still lives within our memories, lose touch with friends, and reach out to grab the hand of new ones. I am no different than anyone else in this regard. As I reflected back on 2011 I found myself in moments with friends of old and new, surrounded by the love of my family, letting go of people who chose to no longer be a part of my life, choosing to let go of others, starting from the beginning to find my ground as I changed positions at work, sharing in tears of happiness with friend at weddings and births, and tears of sadness over death. The most common theme however was that for the first time in an unbelievably long time I fought to find myself and stand on my own to the most complete me I knew how to be. I scoffed at romance because it wasn’t what I needed, no in 2011 I was determined more than ever to understand who and what I was- and where I wanted that to take me. In life we are handed perfect moments. The ones just mentioned can be perfect moments, but I am referring to the everyday out of the way moments that aren’t planned, but somehow life comes together to deliver the most perfect experience possible. They can be fleeting, like a Christmas toy that talks at just the correct moment, or they can last for hours. This year I was graced with several evenings that could not have been imagined any better than they actually happened. Impromptu shadow puppet shows complete with sound effects, dinner out with friends that lasted through the night until breakfast (a couple changes of venue were needed), and card games that go on for hours after you lose where the play is so many times because of the laughter. After they end we sit back and mull them over to think about how many nuances had to come together, just a tweak here on timing, a few inches of differences in physical placement, and they wouldn’t have held as much magic….those days have the ability to intrigue us and make us smile for the rest of our days.
I spent my long vacation this year by myself, driving half way across the country, in a muscle car, and was sick as a dog. It turned out to be amazingly fun, although I cut it short because I found what I needed to find and the illness had gotten to be too much to bear. I was headed to Spring Green, WI…a town of no traffic lights, but an amazing bookstore! It isn’t a hot spot for most vacations, and definitely not for driving that far across the country, but it holds Taliesin. It is the home that Frank Lloyd Wright built for himself and Mamah Borthwick Cheney- if you don’t know the story it was a scandalous ordeal that ended in horrific tragedy. From the moment I crossed the Wisconsin state line I felt at home. It was basically a FLW tour as I stopped outside of Chicago in Oak Park to see the largest concentration of FLW homes standing. Frank didn’t give me a little moment this time- those were all big ones for me. There is something about the style of homes he builds that brings the most calming effect to me. It is an understanding of the genius it took to design the home and the madness that consumed the man. Everything he touched was done so with such haste that nothing was built to last; marriages, homes, commercial buildings. He was constantly evolving his work and more so continuously forgetting his place among the rest of man. In his mind he held a higher understanding of everything around him and no one could match that wisdom and insight. His lack of concern and attention to the people in his life ultimately led to the death of seven people. He was too far removed from general social queues to identify trouble on the horizon and retreated into his work. If it wasn’t for the outside world recognizing how incredibly special his gift was and working tirelessly to preserve it and him, the world may never have known his name. Of course, that is just my understanding of Frank- brilliant, amazingly gifted, completely captivating when he needed or wanted to be, so in tune with his natural surroundings, but still aloof to the humanity of his day. I digress, as is easy to do on that subject. Frank isn’t the center of the perfect moment that life served up on this trip. That came from a little hilltop just outside of town.
I attended a play in an outside amphitheater at the top of a hill. The American Players Theatre has a stage set far back in the woods, outside, and uncovered. Before the show people bring picnics and sit on blankets or a few tables provided at the bottom of the hill, and you mingle drinking wine and enjoying a rather relaxed atmosphere. From the moment I got out of the car in that grassy field, I knew there was something special about the evening. I was alone, of course as the trip was meant to be, but I was dressed in a long silver summer dress with a white shawl around my shoulders. Hair, make-up, nails, and jewelry were done to the nines just as if I was walking into a Broadway performance. As I pulled my picnic basket from the trunk a couple passing complimented the car and how far I had traveled, and surmised I was in for an adventure and there would be a bottle of wine in my basket. (They were right!) I ate and drank with several people exchanging stories of life and adventure. Then I climbed the hill over the stone and sawdust path sheltered by the overreaching trees. At the top was a most beautiful amphitheater, with the stage set for Blithe Spirit. The usher showed me my seat- and I took napkins from my small basket dried it and sat down. It was July, and the summer air was heavy with the dampness that remained from the short storm that had passed an hour or more before. As I continued drinking my wine there were only a few seats empty in the entire place, and one just happened to be next to me. How odd I thought, when I had purchased my ticket I had picked a single available seat by its lonesome in the row, maybe the lone person coming wasn’t as up for the entire experience as I was. Then it happened…a couple showed up. Their tickets and my ticket were compared by the same friendly usher, and she apologized but she had told me where to sit incorrectly. My seat was closer (yeah!) but the kicker was a few rows up the seats stretched across the entire audience, and my actual seat was in the middle of the last row to do so. To make matters worse I would be the last one to sit in the row. CRAP! I hate that find your seat shuffle down a row. What to do…well I walked to the back of my seat and asked the gentleman that would be sitting next to me if he would mind putting my basket on the floor in front of my seat. As it turns out he was a good sport that was there as a third wheel with his friends. He looked at me in my dress and simply asked, “Are you really going to climb over the seat in such a beautiful dress?” I didn’t respond, but grabbed his hand for support, hiked my dress above my knees, and threw one leg over the back of the chair and place my foot on the seat and brought my other leg over and stood. “Well done!” Did I mention that most people were already in their seats and this was a small amphitheater? Apparently I had made a spectacle of myself and I was still standing on my seat as my new friend moved my picnic basket. As I towered above everyone around me the crowd broke out into applause in my general area. It was then I took the time to take in this stranger I had wrangled into my shenanigans. He stood above 6ft but not my much, dressed in jeans and a long sleeved red 3 button shirt, the top button unbuttoned, his eyes were deep brown, his skin the slightest hint of brown from the summer sun, a good solid smile not too Hollywood, long strong clean shaven face, and he was broad through the shoulders with a very square build, and his body muscular but not bulky. His hand had smooth calluses and was cool to the touch. He isn’t the kind of guy that would turn your head on the street, but the life behind his smile would make him stand out in an intimate crowd. He was everyday good looking, which can mean trouble or complete and utter enjoyment. Chuckling and still in good form, after moving my basket my new friend offered me both of his hands and yelled quite loudly “What light from yonder window breaks?” I giggled and thanked him as the nearby crowd ended its applause with a rolling chuckle of their own. Once my feet were on the ground I took a small head bow to them and to my cohort, and he gave one in return. As I was offering my gratitude with that little bow, “I’m such a dork” was screaming through my head, and when he bowed in return “Oh my God! He is too!” was the echo within. We exchanged smiles and took our seats. I offered him the other glass in my basket and poured him some wine. Until the play started we chatted about the beauty around us and general conversation of why we were there. He admitted he wasn’t a theater buff, and that the only reason he knew that one line of Shakespeare was from his high school English class, but instead his friends were trying to offer him some “culture.” Of course his understanding was his friend’s girlfriend was making him come, and he got thrown under the bus in the commotion. The sun had been set for a few minutes and they dimmed the artificial lights, and the players took the stage. Everyone, including us, sat in silence watching the darkening evening intensify the scenes on stage. As Elvira made her entrance through the audience draped from head to toe in a beautiful purple Grecian style dress, the crowd awed and Mother Nature helped out just enough with a cool summer breeze in her passing. My friend leaned in and asked, “Do you think they planned that?” and I responded with, “They are very crafty on this mountain.” We gave a small chuckle and went back to our entertainment.
The play continued with laughter over how dramatic Ruth was over Elvira’s presence, and how well Edith was being played- who knew you could make running funny?!?! At various moments throughout the show we shared comments on the performances, and pointed out set pieces that we thought the other would miss. He smelled clean, no cologne or musky skin from the summer, but fresh from the shower. As the play came to an end and Elvira and Ruth were left to haunt the house alone the crowd stood in a thunderous ovation. I realized how perfect the evening had been, and how the house lights could change all that. The flood lights came on, but they were soft and just enough light to find your way out. He asked if I would leave the way I came, but I felt everyone had been entertained enough for one evening. As we exited the row he chatted with his friends and thanked them for dragging him along. They asked me general conversation about where I was from yada yada yada, and my partner in escapades filled them in on my solo journey across the country. I thanked him for his knightly valor and chivalrous behavior of helping me into my seat. He responding in kind, “My pleasure, thanks for the opportunity to help a pretty girl this evening and taking the strain from my third wheel status.” Everyone knows the look that I caught in his eyes, it is the look of interest, intrigue, and a general curiosity. I’m sure mine were a reflection of that same gaze. His friends had mentioned heading somewhere specific after the show, but I of course didn’t recognize the name and didn’t offer a comment since I hadn’t really been and invitation. Before anyone could say anything else, I said my “nice to meet you and thanks again” and started walking from the trio. My feet hit the pebble and sawdust path that was lined with pine colored sticks supporting white patio party lights down either side and I heard in a familiar voice, “She’s off for another grand adventure and to break more hearts.” I turned my head and smiled just in time to see the same wide smile returned with a full palmed goodbye, I turned forward and I was back on my path. This time the path in front of me down the wooded hill was well traveled, but it ended in a grass field where I would find the Camaro parked waiting to take me wherever it was next that I wished to go. As I fired the engine I smiled in my lonesome because without any planning or prying from me life had given me the perfect evening of intrigue. I could have stayed and chatted, I could have given him my number, I could have followed and joined them for drinks…and the night could have been even better than it already had been, or it could have soured the entire event. I’m not greedy, I’ll take my little moments and smile at what they could have been, but be truly happy for what they were.
