I am waiting in a long line.
My left knee hurts, so i open my umbrella/portable seat. I sit.
Someone I don’t know strikes up a conversation with me. She is young.
She has long dark hair. Could be my daughter or granddaughter.
She speaks:
“Oh, that’s such a good idea, that folding seat. And it even has an awning! How fun How smart”. I look up at her sheepishly. I am ashamed that I have become so old, so weathered that I must sit. But she is young and seemingly beautifully athletic. I assume she has no need of a chair. But I am, as it turns out, wrong.
“I just came from a very rigorous exercise dance class, and i tell you,” the young woman speaks as if she’s known me forever,” I”m plotzing, I’m
so tired.” I mumble something sympathetic. Like I know that fatigue from the many dance classes i’ve taken, though i take them no more.
“Yeah, i’ve got to get my dance skills sharpened up if I’m gonna do this theater thing.” My ears perk up. I sense familiar territory drawing nigh.
Here we are ,in an interminable line waiting to vote, against a man i am hoping we both despise, and i have landed next to a theater geek. One of my people. One of my kiddos!
I feel I immediately how this child, this lithe and lovely say, 26 year old who has enough energy and enough of the right kind of radar, to know she is safe talking to me, someone who might just be able to teach her a thing or two.
I take out my pack of spearmint gum and offer her a piece. She accepts it with the avidity of one who has yet to eat dinner. She offered me a sip of her bottled water.
“So you are in the theatre?”
“Yes yes i am….well, sort of. I want to be. And i will be. Right now, all the jobs have disappeared because of this stupid Covid thing, so even the dance class that just wrecked me was done online, but I’m no slouch. I worked my self into a sweat in my very own living room.”
“Good girl,” I encouraged.” That’s the only way to grow. Do it all, whatever it is, with a fun heart.
I could feel an immediate bond. She looked at me as if I was the wisest woman in the world.
“But, if we all ever get back to work again – if audiences ever feel safe gathering to see live theater – i still need to be seen. I’m new at this . just finished my MFA from a small college in Idaho of all places. SO i know no one..I’ve no Yale network or NYU posse to fall back into a trust exercise with.
“Sometimes there is GOD so quickly”i softly murmured. The girl smiled. . “I love that play.” she said.” I was “Blanche in Streetcar my senior year. I love Tennessee Williams.”
ANd before i knew it, she had launched into the “…..waltz at the Blue Moon Casino” speech, right there in line, kneeling beside me,looking right into my eyes and painting for me the most beautiful portrayal of a young college Blanche Duboise I had ever thought possible. Her Southern accent was soft and knowledgeable, her beats clear and fine. She moved me terribly. And oddly enough, the grace of her art in that uncomfortable long voting line, the generosity of spirit that moved her to share with me her gift then and there…well, the despair that had been heavy on my heart lifted and i suddenly had hope for the future. Maybe my candidate would win after all.
I felt a surge of gratitude toward this child, whose name, she finally told me was Sally Swan.
“Really?” that’s your real name?
“Swear ! I come from a long lone of Idaho Swans. Sally Swan is my name. You think I better change it?
I smiled like an old lady at her and said “I think you should change nothing.” And I began to tell her of my years on the boards.
And of the agent i’d had for 4 decades who ran an office filled with terribly ambitious young agents who were always looking for new talent.
“Oh i can’t impose on you, Martha.” By then we were sharing names as well as gum and water and the odd tic tac i found in the bottom of my bag. She even found some almonds in hers.
I could never….
I interrupted her.
But Sally Swan, you MUST. If you want to do this business, you must take advantage of every tiny chance encounter. You must be purposeful – and true desire, true talent will never be seen as the wrong sort of ambition.
And anyway, what’s wrong with pushing for something you need and deeply passionately desire. this is not wrong. This is FATE! KISMET! or as my people call it this is Beshert.!!!
And off we were running, for as it happened, The Swans of Pocatello were a prominent Jewish Family and Sally knew exactly what “Beshert”meant!