Dear Family and Friends,
Spring has declared herself in Northern Indiana. A box of Crayola Crayons
has been strewn across the fields and woodlands. Every color boasts
her own gift.
Time has a way of tumbling away from us. My past week has been a criss
cross of driving from north to south and east to west planting seeds
of story. I think just To Be Story is the gift I seek. Often I am alone
in this journey.
Yesterday afternoon I found myself in the corner of a small cafe in
Indianapolis on the circle. When I ordered coffee I was asked if it
was to go or to stay...without hesitating...to stay, I said. Refills
are on the house, he replied. I took my corner seat armed with the Indianapolis
Star and the aroma of the cofee bursting through my senses. For two
hours I sat. Most of the time I just watched life around me. Rain was
beginning to fall and darkness was approaching early with the closing
in of the pewter sky. I watched chivalry in action as men opened their
umbrellas to protect their ladies....the carriages and horses stood
ready should someone want to venture a ride around the darkening city...some
plumed and ornate, others as simple as bleached bones....limos sided
up to the coffee shop with young couples heading to prom events....one
large bus pulled up to let out a wedding party...the bride did not feel
the coolness of the evening or the rain as she danced across the circle
laughing with her sweetheart on her arm. Her bridesmaids watched her
dance standing to the side in their own pewter grey dresses. It was
like watching a movie as I sipped hot coffee and the spilling of the
rain on the brick street.
By late dusk it was time to head over to the Indiana Historical Society
to join my Indy friends to enjoy, no that word is not strong enough...for
us to breathe in the two hour performance of Odds Bodkin as he told
The Odyssey. With his own voiced sound effects and guitar we were transported
into the belly of the horse and the piercing of the eye of the cyclops.
It was riveting.
Following the performance several of us had a late night theatre supper
on the upstairs outside balcony of an outdoor bar. The mist of night
shrouded us as the lights of the city circled like a halo...a halo of
art as we sipped Scotch and talked about what makes a tale an epic.
Ah...all too soon the wee hours of the morning were upon us as we bid
farewell...another night of stories...another round of Scotch and home
we go.
Driving home early this morning my windshield wipers kept tune to the
Prairie Home Companion (I always plan my journeys around NPR!) The show
was ending as I pulled into my old town as Garrison Keillor asked his
audience to join in the singing of America, the Beautiful. II didn't
realize I had been crying until a salty tear dripped down my face. I
drove around my own circle and on home.
In other news, my week was full of traveling including a performance
for students for History Day...students who also research and write
their own work...learning to polka, sharing a congratulations party
with Aaron and Karen on her promotion (I am so proud of you, Karen)...ice
cream dates with my boys and flowers arriving on my school desk from
Philip, just because.......
A toast to life..to story...to the mist of early spring.
Lou Ann
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