Skip to main content

Even when I lose I'm winning.

Wandering around backstage, I feel like I'm in the way. There's no where for me in the audience now that the auditorium is full. I don't exactly have a ticket and all the spectators are seated.

I find a stool in the corner and watch as a parade of performers prepare themselves for the big night. Some sing, some dance and some are good talkers. I know them all but I don't want what they have.

They live in moments, surrounded by strangers. Because they give so much of themselves away, they require the oxygen of those around them, floating on the top water.

I grow impatient, waiting.

Sighing and exhaling forcefully causes my hair to flip up, creating the illusion of slightly waving at the curtain operator. His smile is slightly maniacal as adrenaline propels him into the shadow of the spotlight. The show has begun and I'm stuck here on this stool until the end. I hunch because there's no back on my stool, wishing I wouldn't have settled but I can't have EVERYthing.

As the traveler curtain is raised and lowered on actors and dancers, I smile at the antics, mostly sincere.
I'm moved by the emotion.
I love the passion.
I crane my neck and cup my ear.

In the dark corner, it's difficult to see and hear how others do and I'm weary from sitting. The backstage hustle and bustle, the hushed whispers, it's all so frantically distracting.

I like a show but maybe I'll just catch this one next time around, I tell myself, as I amble off to find the most delicious cup of coffee ever.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Just get out the way, and let the gentleman do his thing.

Retired Memphis Police Department Chief Inspector Robert Jones came to my pool party the other day. Over hot dogs and fruit salad, he regaled his grandchildren with tales of his days in Special Services on the police force. That's SWAT to you and me.

Among those anecdotes, he spins a yarn that includes a tear gas capsule hidden on the motor of a car full of pimps and ladies of the night, effectively expelling these law breakers out of a Buick Electra 225, running crazy. Later, he would be appointed Chief Inspector, along with fellow officer James Bolden (who also served MPD director), climbing his way up the career ladder with an excellent work ethic. But, before all that, he was a regular joe on the beat, paying his dues. Only, this fiery, young Irishman was going to do it his way.


They called him The Flame. Not only for his ability to run like one but, there was also that shiny red hair. In his youth, his stubborn independence got him into some trouble so he channeled that and mad…

There must be lights burning brighter somewhere.

"Something is happening in Memphis; something is happening in our world."~ Dr. Martin Luther King 
This feels different. This recent flurry of news stories and protests feels different. It's bigger and it's genuine and it's not blowing over any time soon. 
Memphis has racial diversity with a dark past. It just is what it is and continues to influence our present and, undoubtedly, our future. Even as I write this, I am concerned about offense or being misunderstood myself.
As a student of history, I've studied slavery, the holocaust, the civil rights movement and beyond. I definitely don't consider myself a racist, but with transparency, I will say that I, like many white people in Memphis, don't understand the perspective of the black community. I don't understand what they were shouting at the protest. I don't understand why the bridge was blocked for so long. If I'm being honest, I don't understand exactly what the end goal is and I don…

I was so scared to face my fears.

Why You even trust us with so much, I can't even imagine. We alternate between pumping triumphant fists in the air and rocking quietly in the corner, squeezy eyes and knitty brows, vulnerable to the next thing next. In a matter of weeks, issues that include extreme trauma, mental illness, genetic disorders, and tired, old grudges, which serve to poison the waters, pass through our hands. We stand, arm in arm, carefully considering whether we are meant to dodge or take the shots:What are we supposed to be to learning?
Can we set it gently to the side and move along?
Is this our burden to bear for a season?
Who is wearing hearts on sleeves?
and should we?It's hard to say in a world of emotions but I KNOW our hearts are true. Even in their ugliest states, we keep it real. Sometimes, we're all Daigle, inspired and fortified, but, as many times as not, we're blasting Adele, accidentally alienating the ones we love and raw as can be. Let's just keep the Gungors, Eminems …