Ships
that pass in the night: Two people who encounter one another in a
transitory,incidental manner, and whose relationship is without
significance.
My mind
wanders — randomly accessing memories of recent or long ago
incidents of varying significance. Triggered by a song playing in the
background of my daily existence, or a casual glance at a picture on
my wall. Or even without any identifiable trigger. Just happens. Some
few recur, without obvious meaning. One of these is my memory of a
canary.
Not the bird
in a cage — but the singer with the band.
She was a
classical beauty. Think Eleanor Parker, the Baroness in Sound
of Music. Poised. Blonde. Gorgeous. With a voice that reminded me
of Linda Ronstadt. She was the singer with the band that regularly
played at the dances we attended at the Country Club
In my ten
years with Ann we attended many dances. She had helped me learn how
to dance. And dance we could — and did. Thanks to Ann I had quite a
reputation as a good dancer.
At a dance at
the Country Club at some vaguely unplaceable time
(probably about 2008 plus or minus a year or two), Ann wandered away
from me to go dance with somebody else. As she was walking away from
our table she indicated a woman who was sitting alone at a table at
the end of the dance floor, and told me to “go dance with that
lady.”
That
lady was the singer with the band.
Being the
obedient, devoted slave to most of Ann's wishes, I walked to that
lady's table. I would not have even thought of asking her to dance,
had it not been for Ann's admonition. The woman was beautiful. And I
had not — (still haven 't) outgrown my sense of being terribly
intimidated by an attractive female.
But approach
her I did. I extended my hand — “May I have the honor?”
Without
comment she arose and walked with me into the milling cloud of
dancers.
By this time
in my progression from clumsy, “don't know how to dance,” I had
migrated to the level of being rather adept. So much so the Ann's
niece Barbara, who with husband Paul often accompanied us to dances,
would admonish me:
“I
don't want to dance with you if you're gonna do any of your fancy
steps.”
So that in
the dance with the canary I avoided any “fancy steps.” I simply
slowly shuffled around the floor. She generously and competently
followed me.
I attempted
conversation. “Where did you learn to sing so beautifully?”
“All
over Georgia.”
Mercifully, the song ended and I escorted her back
to her lonely table.
My next
awareness of her was at the last dance that I attended with Ann.
Spring of 2012, at the Country Club. We sat at a table with Ann's
sister and her boyfriend Gus. I learned from Gus that the name of the
canary was Sue, and that she was a classically trained musician.
Ann and I,
and several other couples filled one side of a table. I sat next to
the dance floor.
Gus loved to
sing. And he led us, all of us at our table, in a joyous rendition of
“If I Loved You” from Carousel. The key that Gus selected
placed it too high for me. And I didn't have the range to sing it
down an octave. So I attempted a bass accompaniment. Struggling to
imitate Nelson Eddy from Naughty Marietta, I was bouncing
around from note to note, trying to fit into some kind of harmony.
The band was
taking a break, and walking en masse toward
restrooms and refreshments. As they walked past our table I heard the
singer, Sue, say “Listen to that harmony!”
I mentally
assessed the efforts of our singing group, and found that everyone
else was singing the melody. Mine was the harmony of Sue's comment.
A few minutes
later, as we were singing another song, the band returned from their
break. Sue stopped, lagging behind, and stood facing me. Gazing
directly into my eyes she sang a beautiful alto accompaniment to the
song we were singing. I was stumbling through an improvised bass.
I
was singing a duet with the beautiful band singer!
This
insignificant moment in time comes frequently to mind. And I briefly
fantasize a developing relationship with that beautiful stranger.
Ships in the
night.
I
find various philosophies regarding fascination with the past:
Past
is experience, present is experiment, future is expectation.
Learn
from the past, look to the future, but live in the present.
Accept
your past without regrets; Handle your present with
confidence; And face your future without fear.
But
I will continue to reminisce.
