Historical.

[tedwords]

"Hearts do not break, they sting and ache/For old love's sake, but do not die..." The Mikado

2:00 p.m., Sunday afternoon

I stood in front of the assembled room, filled to the rim with antiquity.

“Good afternoon! My name is Ted, and I am the artistic director for Eldredge Singers. I’ve held this position for about ten years and have been involved with the group as a stage director for twenty-two years. Of course, the group has been around for 81 years, so…” And then I paused, for effect. “Which of course means to many, I’m just a newby.”

A nice chuckle. But as I scanned the room, I realized to my chagrin that the joke wasn’t as spot on as it used to be. My bud Tony was in the audience, and he had been around for a few years more than I have, but of the folks involved who were in attendance, most had not been involved even close to 20 years.

Still, I was presenting at the history of the Eldredge Players at an Eldredge Historical Society meeting, and they had been promoting the event for a few weeks now, which meant it had attracted a few folks that had been around before I was actively involved. My high school friend Kevin the Fish was in the audience with his partner Anthony, and he had been involved as far back as high school, and there was some blonde lady who I didn’t know who appeared to have done a show or two way back when.

There was one lady in the front row who had us all beat. Her name was Marilyn, and she incredibly had been involved with the group when it first had been founded in 1945. She was 95 years old. And even though her last show with the group had probably been before I was born, she had heard about the meeting and, as she told me, “would have thumbed a ride to get here today!”

That would have taken some doing. I had watched her come into the meeting as we were arriving at the building. It had taken three people to escort her in. Naturally, her mobility was an issue, and she had thick cataracts over her watery blue eyes. She could neither walk well nor see well, and yet she claimed to still be living in the house that she had lived in since she had gotten married.

And yet. Her voice! Clear as can be, and everyone in the room could hear every word she had to say. And she was so articulate and lucid, with such a clear memory of the shows from the past and the names of the folks who had touched her life! “I was in the Mikado,” she said. “Still remember the words, too!” And then she started singing, “Miya sama, miya same…” She chuckled. “Funny how some things stick with you.”

Amazing. Of course, I spent as much time with her as I could and shifted as much of my discussion as I could in her direction. Most landed, but at one point, I had discovered some research from our 50th anniversary that I founded amusing, but looking through older eyes, may not have been.

“...some romances were embarrassing to the organization. One in particular involved a member who was shot by his father-in-law for deserting his daughter for the leading lady!” I turned to my new friend Marilyn. “I hope you didn’t know this person!” I said, to get a laugh.

“Oh,” she said, a bit embarrassed. “I was only a young thing back then. I don’t think I would have heard anything about that!”

The audience chuckled, appreciative. 

It was lovely to be able to share the spotlight with her. I also spent a lot of time with her before and after the speech, looking at the programs and many photos she had brought with her, and taking as many photos as I could of what she had (much to the consternation of the staff of the Historical society, I learned from Corb later.)

“I may need to be moving to an assisted living facility soon,” she confided to me, after the presentation was over. “My children passed away a few years ago, but my daughter in law brought me here today. I have so much stuff in my house, soon, and I have to start getting rid of it. That's why I wanted to donate all of this to the Historical Society. So they can have it forever.”

You know how sometimes you have a little voice inside that tells you things happen for a reason? As I was putting the presentation together that week, I had received a message from the Society that a lady named Marilyn had called them and wanted to talk to us about her memories. Unfortunately, I was so busy actually putting the presentation together and easing into my life post-Fidelity that I never got around to calling her. '

I felt guilty about it all week long. Friday, I had promised myself I would call her. I didn’t. It didn’t feel right, I didn’t know what to say, the presentation wasn’t final yet. Saturday, the same thing.

And yet, at the moment I sat next to her, I realized why I hadn’t called her. 

I didn’t call because I didn’t need to. 

My intuition told me it wouldn’t be right. Instead, my gut was telling me what I needed was to see her in person. To thank her and talk to her and let her tell her story and share her memories in front of the 40 or so folks assembled to hear it.

To applaud her. To give her one last moment in the spotlight.

At the age of 95, there may not be many more chances for that to occur. And yet, this past Sunday, Miss Marilyn was decidedly the star of the Eldredge Players, one last time.

And that made the entire afternoon worth it.