Everything Is All Right (Blog #123)

1 Comment July 31, 2017 CoCo

Currently I’m in Springfield, Missouri, at the Savoy Ballroom, where for the last two days I’ve been eating and sleeping upstairs and dancing downstairs. This afternoon I took a nap. (Please alert the media.) Y’all, naps should be a required activity for adults in America. What a shot in the arm. I feel like a kid again. My brain is working. What a great life. Honestly, the only thing that could make this place any more magical would be a fire pole. Just imagine–wake up from a nap, slide downstairs, dance.

Perfection.

Last night my friend Matt (who’s teaching dance now and in the photo above) and I rearranged furniture and decorated the dance studio in the upstairs apartment. The challenges were 1) the room has a lot of weird angles, and 2) the room is really four rooms in one–a dance studio, a guest room, an exercise room, and a “the rest of our crap goes here” room, and 3) we couldn’t put any furniture in the middle of the room because people have to dance there. So Matt and I scratched our heads for about an hour (no, THAT won’t work EITHER), and finally decided to “do something even if it’s wrong.”

It took a few hours, but we finally figured it out. I don’t have any “before” pictures, but here’s what we ended up with. This is the view when you walk in the room. The “dance/music section” is on the left (partially pictured here) and extends to the middle of the room. The “exercise section” is in the back right corner. My most favorite part is the Apple poster with Pablo Picasso that says, “Think different.” Notice how his shirt matches the piano keys beneath it. Because the wall behind the piano is concrete, we decided to hang the poster by fishing wire from the exposed pipe behind the air duct. It was our way to “think different.” I said, “We’re just following directions.”

This is the view from the back of the room. On the left (on your right as you walk in) is the “guest room section.” The screen on the far right is by the doorway. To the right of the TV is an old wooden music stand with a book on it called From the Ball-room to Hell, which is no-kidding about the evils of dancing. Maybe it could be subtitled Dancing Your Way to Damnation (And What a Way to Go). I’m reminded of Mark Twain’s quote, “Go to Heaven for the climate, Hell for the company.”

As Billy Joel said, “The sinners are much more fun.”

Here’s a close up of the “dance section,” to your left as you walk in, straight across from the couch. (You can see it in the mirror in the picture above.) Isn’t that the cutest thing you ever saw? The dress is the one Anne wore for the opening night of the Savoy.

This afternoon after my nap, Anne and Andy and I went next door to eat Peruvian food (yum). Next door! In the course of conversation, we talked about what it was like living with my parents. I said, “You know, Mom and Dad are pretty cool. Of course, sometimes they (and by they I mean Dad) know how to push my buttons.” Then Anne said the best thing ever.

“Well sure they know how to push your buttons–THEY MADE THEM.”

Seriously. Is she right or is she right?

Now there’s a flash mob class in progress. I met one of the couples (Della and Dusty) before when I was here for a sock hop. They recognized me by my name because they used to live in Van Buren in the eighties. I guess when our house burned down, it was a pretty big deal. (It was a pretty big deal.) Anyway, Della told me tonight that her husband had gone downtown (where the car accident and subsequent fire happened) that evening, but he hadn’t called to say he was okay. She said she was sure he’d been hurt. Then she said, “It’s really amazing you weren’t home that evening.” I said, “My parents went to dinner and had planned to get a babysitter for me and my sister, but they couldn’t find one. Several years ago a lady who used to take care of us told me my parents called her that evening. She said she lied and said she was busy so that she could hang out with her friends.”

Let’s hear it for liars (sometimes).

Today I’m fascinated by how one life touches another, how a tragedy that happened in a small town over thirty years ago can create a point of connection for two people, and then how those same people can be brought back together in a beautiful ballroom long after the deep sigh of relief that comes with surviving a near-miss has been breathed. Still I’m fascinated how part of me remembers the fear like it was yesterday, how even writing about it now makes my eyes water up. I look around at all the people dancing and it’s still such a relief–everything is all right.

Earlier tonight I watched Matt teach two of his students how to do the frog jump, which is an aerial I taught Matt a few months ago. I watched him talk about how to take time to prep, how the girl’s hand needs to stay under her belly button for support, how they need to do a rock step when it’s all over. And whereas I’m not Matt’s only instructor, I feel like it’s fair to say that most of that came from me. Watching Matt, I felt like a proud dance parent. Watching his students, I felt like a proud grandparent. Naturally, everything I know came from someone else, so I think that just as one life touches another, we can never really say how far our influence goes. Truly, our story goes on and on in both directions. Truly, we are infinite.

Quotes from CoCo (Marcus)

Sure, we forget it plenty of times, but on the inside we’re all shining. This is what gives me hope, knowing that we are all radiant.

The Magic of Tom Collins (Blog #105)

Leave a comment July 13, 2017 CoCo

Not to be a stereotypical homosexual, but I love (LOVE) a good musical, and rarely a week goes by that I don’t listen to at least one Broadway show tune. All that being said–and I hope I don’t offend anyone here–and by that I mean I don’t care if I offend anyone here–but I’m not IN LOVE with the musical Rent. I mean, I adore parts of it, but I have a difficult time with the soundtrack because of all the “voicemail” numbers and all the BEEPING. Maybe it feels too much like real life to me. Anyway, a few weeks ago–for no apparent reason–I put on the Rent soundtrack for the first time “in a month of Sundays” while driving to Fayetteville.

As I’m wont to do, I eventually settled on a single, solitary song called “Santa Fe” that I kept on repeat for nearly a week. I can’t tell you why, but I must have listened to it fifty times or more. It’s this snappy little tune about a guy and his boyfriend who are dreaming about getting out of New York City and running away to open up a restaurant in–you guessed it–Santa Fe. Maybe my fascination had something to do with dreaming and thinking about what’s possible.

Within a week of listening to “Santa Fe” for the first time (recently), I got the ever-living shit knocked out of me and my car when I was rear-ended in the worst possible way. Within three days of the accident, I knew my car (a Honda Civic) was totaled and that I’d need a new one. So I made one phone call to a dear friend who almost always knows what to do (and if he doesn’t at least sounds like he does). He said, “Go see Johnny Jack in Van Buren. Tell him what’s going on. He’ll treat you right, and if he says it’s a good car, it’s a good car.”

So that’s what I did. On Monday, July 3rd, about closing time, I stopped by Jack’s Motor Company and met Johnny. Initially he steered me toward a Ford Focus, which met all my requirements in terms of price. But I didn’t like it. (I still don’t like it. You can’t make me like it.) But Johnny said I should come back the next day and test drive it. “I’d really like an SUV,” I said. “How much is that Nissan Murano?”

“Too much,” Johnny said. (I’m paraphrasing.)

But then Johnny continued, “In a couple of days I should have another SUV in. It might be just the thing.” And then he quoted me a price that actually seemed doable, probably thanks to the person who sent me over. So the next day, July 4th, I went back to Johnny’s with the intention of test driving the Focus, just to give it a chance. (Everyone deserves a chance.) But when I got there Johnny said, “You’re in luck. That SUV I was telling you about got delivered early.” And there it was, a beautiful 2007 Hyundai Santa Fe, freshly cleaned with the stereo blasting one of my favorite tunes, “Africa” by Toto.

Did you catch that the car was a Santa Fe–like the song?

Well, I took the car for a spin and fell in love within five minutes. I picked up Mom and Dad, and Dad said, “Bite the bullet. You’re not going to be happy with anything else.” When I got back to the lot, I told Johnny that I wanted it, and he said, “I’ll put a sold sign on it. Whenever you settle the insurance claim, it’s yours.”

It was that easy. I really only had to look at one car.

A little over a week later, the insurance check finally cleared. Today was the day! I guess I thought buying a new car would be a hassle, but it wasn’t. Johnny was awesome. Is awesome. As one friend who knows him said, “He’s the man.”

I’m calling the car Tom Collins, since that’s the character who sings the song about Santa Fe in Rent. And I don’t mind saying he’s pretty sweet. It’s the first time I’ve ever owned a daily driver with leather interior, heated seats, powered everything, tinted windows, and a moon roof. Plus, it’s pretty spacious, the perfect size to host an intimate wedding reception. But seriously, I couldn’t be more excited. I mean, if you have to get slammed in the ass while minding your own business and are forced to buy a new set of wheels, a car like Tom Collins is the way to go. As my aunt Carla said, “There’s a difference between living and living well.”

You may already know this, but Tom Collins isn’t just a character from a musical about being broke and infected with HIV. It’s also a drink–made with gin, lemons, sugar, and carbonated water–that’s been around for over a century. And whereas I’ve lived my entire adult life and never had a Tom Collins, I figured today was a good time to change that. So this evening I celebrated the Santa Fe by going to El Zarape with my friend Justin and ordering (and drinking) the adult beverage that shares the name of my new car.

Well, sort of. My friend Jimmy was our waiter and bartender, and he’d never heard of a Tom Collins. So we Googled it, and he said, “Sure, I can do that.” But when he talked to the other bartenders about it, they said, “The carbonated water will ruin the alcohol. So leave that out, add a splash of Triple Sec, and use another orange liqueur instead of an actual orange for garnish.”

OMG, y’all. These are the kinds of friends you need in your life. Jimmy’s Modified Tom Collins was UH-MAZING. It was basically like lemonade on steroids.

GRRRR.

When Justin and I got back to his house, his wife, Ashley, and her friend Schuyler wanted to go out for Taco Bell, so I said, “I’ll drive!” (I’ve never had a car I’ve been proud to pile a bunch of people in for a fast food run. God. It really is the little things.) Anyway, at Taco Bell when it was our turn at the Drive-Thru, the voice on the other end said, “Just a moment please,” and without thinking I blurted out, “Take your time. Order when you’re ready.”

And then everyone inside Tom Collins exploded with laughter, which I thought was the perfect way to start our new life together.

I’ve spent most of today in awe at the way the universe works, the fact that something that initially seemed awful (my car wreck) turned out so well. Before me, the Santa Fe was owned by only one person, a little old lady whom I spoke with on the phone and told me the only reason she was getting rid of it was because she’d backed into a trashcan and wanted a car with a backup camera. Now that I’ve spent a day with Tom Collins, I kind of want to call her back and tell her how grateful I am she didn’t see that trashcan. And I could just hug my friend who sent me to Johnny, and I’d dance at Johnny’s wedding, except for the fact that he’s already married.

I guess a lot of people would say that my randomly listening to a song called “Santa Fe” a week before my car accident and an old lady hitting a trashcan with her Santa Fe vehicle and then trading it in at the same time I started car shopping were simply coincidences. But at this point in my life, I know better. Joseph Campbell said, “When we follow our bliss, we are met by a thousand unseen helping hands.” Personally, I love this. It’s like I’ve spent so much of my life waiting for something magical to happen, and then one day I realized magic has been happening all around me this entire time, gently waiting for me to notice, to start dreaming again, to believe that anything and everything is possible because–it is.