road trip haiku

mountains cry for joy
'neath blankets of rain-soaked earth
as warm sun beams down.

Shakespeare on the Sound

Every year at this time, one of the things I most look forward to is heading out to see one of the wonderful local companies performing Shakespeare at an outdoor venue. By far, my favorite of these is a company that self-descriptively calls itself Shakespeare On The Sound. The company itself is talented and features many professional actors from the New York stage, and the production values, staging, etc., are top notch. The park in which they hold their productions is a spectacular setting, with a gentle slope heading down toward the stage and harbored shore, facing southwest. What this means is that, just as the production starts, the audience often gets a view of the setting sun and twilight, just slightly off stage right. It's a magical place in which to see the works of the Bard. This year, it was to be even more magical, as they were preforming A Midsummer Night's Dream, and they were introducing a new staging feature, a meandering ramp that was built out into the seating area to bring the performances even closer to the audience.

I had been looking forward to it for months, and then as the performance dates came, so did the rain. Before I realized it, it was the last week of the 2-1/2 week performance calendar, and I had to work quickly to galvanize a few friends into heading down there for the only date we all were able to go. So Friday, as the day promised yet more thunderstorms, I was determined that the weather wasn't gong to dampen my determination to see this show. After all, their policy is that, unless it is raining hard at the 7:30 start time, the show will go on. Even though it had rained every day the week before, they had managed to put on four performances out of six. We all had arranged to bring our contributions to a potluck picnic dinner, and the air was warm and pleasant. Around 2 PM, I got a letter from one member of our merry troupe, telling me that it was pouring out where he was, relatively near our venue, so he was probably going to cancel. As I read it, however, I was some 25 miles away and looking at blue skies. So, I popped up my IM and did my best to convince him the the show would go on. I sent out an email to everyone, stating the theater company's rain policy. One of my friends affirmed, that yes, she had been there once as rain broke out, and as most people fled to their cars, the rain suddenly stopped and the show went on, to much applause.

I checked the Weather Channel, and it didn't look quite so promising. The approaching squalls looked pretty self-contained, but it was big, and still extended quite a ways to the west. It was definitely going to hit, and hard. So the question was, would they be over in time for the show to go on? Should I drive all that distance just to get rained out. And if it was rained out, then what would we do?

What ensued became its own little comedy of frantic phone calls and hastily made contingencies, much of which went on while I was in my car, slogging through a torrential thunderstorm, and, although just about everyone was ready to bail, we were unable to find a consensus on an alternative plan. In the meantime, I could see a lightening in the western sky (as opposed to the lightning which as blazing to the east). Dammit, I was certain the show would go on, and that's what I wanted to do!

Alas, I couldn't find anyone else willing to still head there, and I kept imagining how I'd feel sitting there on my lawn chair on the saturated ground, watching the show all by myself. After driving 20+ miles and for 45 minutes in this driving rain, at just about the geographic point of no return, I finally allowed one of my friends to convince me to bring my picnic supper to her house instead, some 20 miles in another direction, into rush hour traffic, toward neither home nor the park. As I did, I felt defeated.

No sooner was I on the highway, heading east into black skies and wild streaks of lightning, I looked into my rear view mirror and could see the edge of the squall. Within minutes, I could see the low-slung sun peeking out in the clearing skies. By the time I got to my friend's house, its reflection off the wet pavement was making driving difficult, and I was looking above at patches of blue. I found myself mentally scrolling through the past and present, lovers and friends, for those who might have been willing to take that chance and meet me in the park, and they were few and far between. Sigh.

morning haiku

gentle morning rain
lullaby for sleeping in,
and then thunder cracks!

Time Between Trains

Around here, many of the towns have free summer concerts, and this past Tuesday, I attended one in nearby Ridgefield, CT, where the wonderful Susan Werner was playing. I had been introduced to her at the same venue last year, and was very glad that the weather cleared up in time for her show. A small gathering of friends, with a potluck picnic and a couple of bottles of wine, created the setting for a beautiful evening.

Some of her songs came from her album of last year, called The Gospel Truth. Not what you'd expect from that title; she calls herself "an evangelical agnostic", and her lyrics include such gems as:

Lord, lead us not into temptation
And deliver us
from those who think they're You.

But the songs that touched me the most are the ones that talk of being single, of the struggle to connect with another, of loneliness.

Her words struck me with a special poignancy that night, as I had run into an old love, one for whom I will always have great affection. He seemed very happy to see me, and it made me long for the connection we once had, although I know that one can never travel the same road twice.

Her trademark song, Time Between Trains, is probably my favorite:

I'm waitin' at the station
I can choose my destination
I'm a free soul, I got no chains
But it's a long time between trains

I took a long nap, I read a whole book
I got nice legs, I got decent looks
And I'm not one who complains
But it's a long time between trains

And who'd have thought it all those years
That I would find myself back here
Feelin' restless and ignored
Starin' at the schedule board
Wonderin' why the fates above
Always route love through Miami

And somewhere lovers smile their smiles
While I count the ceiling tiles
And well give or take a few
There's one thousand fifty-two
But that depends if you include
The eighty-eight out in the hall

Yes I'm waitin' at the station
With my old friend sublimation
You know the Wright boys designed planes...

Must have been a long time, yeah

Must have been a long time

Must have been a long time between trains.