My muse friend and her two sisters went to see Chekhov’s Three Sisters on Saturday night. It was 1 am her time in St. Petersburg when she was telling me that, and I was just getting the breakfast going in Las Vegas. She was raiding the fridge, and I was raiding the fridge.
“The thing is 4,5 hours long!” she said.
“Did you go to the café during intermission?” I asked. In St. Petersburg, going to a play and not going to the café is like going to Paris and skipping the Eifel tower.
“We did, and we brought our own bananas and candy,” she said. “It was like just like we were kids.”
Six hours later, B and I were going to see The Fantasticks musical. Next to me sat a Betty White –type old lady in an embroidered shirt and matching earrings and necklace. She was glowing.
“Went to see this musical in 1967,” she said. “It was all we could afford for our honeymoon.”
“Sounds like it was magical for you,” I said.
“Yes! We’re still together! We have our sixth great-grand child on the way….”
She tapped her foot and hummed along with the music. It was happiness you wanted to bottle for future use.
The magical power of theater….