A Limited Perspective

The curtain falls

Darkness ensues

The audience waits

Entranced

Holding breaths

Until the magic begins

The story unfolds

Holding enraptured

The captives

As they follow every word

Action

Song

Trying to memorize everything

For the future

To be able to express how they felt

What they saw

The experience of it all

Except for one lonely man

Sitting in the balcony

So high up that all he sees are the tops of heads

He understands that something

Great is happening below

But he cannot appreciate it

Because he cannot see

He hears the words, the music

But it bears no meaning without sight

When the show is over

When the man is asked about the play

He understands that he missed

A key point, an important interaction

And so he takes from the experience

A limited perspective

But to him, it enables him

To speak as an expert

Who has witnessed an inferior production

As someone with knowledge in the arts

Who has the right to disparage the show

That wasn’t worth money spent

Later, he sits alone, yearning for the time

When theater was great.

First Concert

            I loved music from the time I was small.

            My dad controlled the radio, so we mostly listened to country western, as it was called in 1950s Ohio. I didn’t like the twang and nasal voices, but something about the words called to me.

            They sang about heart break, loneliness and loss, things I knew about even back then.

            Sometime when I was in high school I saved enough money to buy a small radio. It picked up very few stations, but because it was mine, I chose what to listen to. I fell in love with rock and roll.    

            The stories were happier, the music bouncy and joyous, It made me feel good inside, even on my most miserable days.

            Joining choir was not a possibility as my goal was college, and every class had to lead to getting accepted. Choir was not the elective to make that happen. Plus I’d been told by my brother and father, repeatedly, that I couldn’t sing.

            My college, USC, frequently hosted musicians. I couldn’t afford to go, plus I had no one who’d go with me. The walk across campus late at night wasn’t safe due to the neighborhood.

            When James Taylor was coming, I decided to buy two tickets, then try to find someone to buy the extra, so as to accompany me. I asked a couple of girls I knew, sort of, but they refused. There was a boy who shared a few classes with me, and since he’d been polite, I asked him.

            He thought it was a date, so he was happy to go, for free!

            James Taylor put on an excellent show. He was charismatic, comfortable, welcoming. He sang his repertoire of released songs, and a few more.

            At times he encouraged the audience to sing along.

            I had a marvelous time. My “date”, not so much as he didn’t like James Taylor. He only accepted because I had paid for the tickets.

            That one concert deeply influenced my love of stage. While it took years before I was able to go see more of my favorite groups, I have loved every concert I’ve seen.

            There’s something magical in the air as the crowd waits for the show to begin. It’s amplified when the performer takes the stage. The energy level builds, the audience sways to the beat, and when it ends, there’s a massive letting go.

            I am so glad that I saw James Taylor, even though it was with someone I barely knew. It showed me a world that I never imagined, allowed me to fall in love with it, and still love it today.