Orchestra Seating in Heaven... January 2019

I like Essay November 26, 2018

On CNN, they sometimes interview someone at an indescribable horrid scene.  The person they interview, I always call ‘the voice of hope’, is usually crying, dirty, and holding a nasal dripping baby and says something hopeful like, “We are just ready to return to our daily lives and live our lives again.” 

I want to be that person. 

Once I was.  My brother’s house was almost totaled with straight-line winds—during a children’s birthday party.  Huge trees were uprooted and fell on the house—except in the bathroom/big closet area where he had gathered the children.  They were safe.

I drove from Commerce to his place past Athens the next morning to help, and local television was there.  I guess the best memory was my oldest nephew grabbed me, hugging so tightly and just fell apart; his younger brother joined him, hugging Uncle Larry and crying, crying, crying… they were about 10 and 7.  I felt safe.

The TV crew interviewed me without preparation and I said something like, “Man, these trees were over 100 years old,” I continued, “They were having a children’s birthday party and moved quickly to their designated storm site in the newly renovated bathroom/bedroom suite.”  I didn’t use the word suite… and I didn’t sound like I could convince anyone that I had some intelligence.  “But we are going to clean this mess up and help my brother rebuild his home.  They will then begin their normal lives again.”  (See… the voice of hope…)

If I am the voice of reason, we are in serious trouble.  Voice of hope = check.  Steady under emergencies = check.  Fall apart afterwards = always. 

So, here are some of the voice of hope with a little bit of crooked wisdom:

I like that bubble gum flavored toothpaste.  It’s like, well, brushing your teeth with bubble gum…

I then brush my teeth again with serious Colgate.  Name brand loyalty.

I like the word: “Blithering”, as in “Don’t be a blithering idiot.”  I think that is not as mean as just calling someone an ‘idiot’. It shows you gave some thought to the name calling so that might mean you care about the idiot… a bit… a little bit… I have no idea what ‘blithering’ means but it may be the voice of hope—see how this works?  That ‘blithering’ part may very well get you eventually out of the label as an ‘idiot’.  I guess you just must blither with high hopes.

I wonder sometime about ‘point blank’ range.  That means up real close… right.  But, how do people use the phrase ‘blank point’?  If someone says, you have a blank point, they mean you either don’t make any sense or you are out of date or just blithering away again.  But, now say Point Blank Range… that means you are so guaranteed to hit a bull’s eye that you don’t even need to point the gun… should we say Blank Aim?  No, too much history for that, I suppose.  It’s a blank point indeed.

A friend told me recently that he thinks I will have an orchestra seat in Heaven.  He meant it as a high commendation and he rarely gives high praise, so it was a touchstone in our life long friendship.  What he couldn’t know, it that when I go to New York City—all I want to do is see theater.  And I always go to the box office and ask for the cheap “Obstructed View” seats—they are $40.  I’ve seen Tony-award winning shows… all with obstructed views.  Most of the O.V’s (Obstructed Views) are in those filigreed box seats to the side of the theaters—like when the Lincolns sat.  I lock the box door extra doubly safely.  So the obstructed view is just that you turn your chair a bit to the side to see the stage… my dad liked to turn his chair to look at the audience… just people watch or take a nap—and afterwards when asked what he thought of the play, he would hold his hand out in front of him with fingers together, and then rock it back and forth, as and “iffy” signal… could be good/good be bad… kind of ‘iffy”… he did that often… except after Chicago and Thoroughly Modern Millie.  Both of those, in the middle of the plays, he leaned closely and said, “How did you know about this play?  It’s GREAT!”.  He and Mom like musicals; I like drama—never comedies and NEVER ever … ever… MAGIC … except Siegfried and Roy – I took my parents 3 times to see them.  I’ve been to Vegas 38 times all with different folks and swear I’ve saw S&R 38 times (the old gal that they used to bring up on stage?  She was a set up.   We sat beside her once.  How could she stand to see that show twice a day for six days a week for more than 20 years… There is no voice of hope for that out of her mind now gal… and Roy… Poor Roy … that Tiger did what came naturally and chomped down on Roy’s head… but with all that plastic surgery… my theory is that the lion thought he was a chew toy.

Back to Heaven…. An orchestra seat sounds nice, but I don’t want to play trombone for all eternity in Heaven.  I have lost my embouchure.  (strength of lip muscles).  I was a regular body builder of my lips as the First Chair Trombone in the University of North Texas Honor Band.  We cut an eight-track player disc which I still have somewhere.  I was first chair in the state-wide band—but when I got back to Cooper, Texas, I was second chair to Joe Mr. Perfect Price.  The band director told me he knew it was not right; I even heard him tell the Band Aid (the volunteers) that Larry should be first chair trombone since he was All State First Chair.  But he didn’t make the change.  And I lost all hope, my embouchure and sold my trombone to a university student for $25 and then I found her and gave her $25 back.  I just couldn’t enjoy that money… you know, being second chair at home when I had been chosen First Chair by the UNT Lab Band Director.  Bad things happen to good people.  I say that every time something bad happens to me.