Willa's Journal - My roadie experience

~~My roadie experience~~

Wednesday, November 27, 1996, 9:30 p.m.

Yesterday I said I'd tell the roadie story tonight. Tom, my yoga teacher and friend, is also a musician. He plays acoustic guitar and sings at weddings and funerals, and also puts a band together for several concerts a year. I generally help out, sometimes taking money or directing people, or sitting in the lobby selling tapes and CD's.

I don't remember exactly when this was, I guess it must have been two Christmas's ago. He was giving a concert at the Benedictine monastery in Atchison, Kansas. He lived there as a monk for a few years, so he has a lot of friends there still. And his family either lives there or nearby, so there would be a lot of people there that he knew. It was a very special concert. Atchison is probably an hour and a half drive from where I live, so when he asked if I could help set up for the concert I told him I could, but that if I did I wouldn't be able to come to the concert itself to help that night.

He said he probably needed setting-up help most, so I agreed to drive out on Saturday. Another woman was going to come out and help also and he asked if she could ride with me. Well, I asserted myself and said that I would really prefer to drive out by myself. A long drive alone can be a time for reflection; a long drive with a stranger can be torture.

I drove out there that morning; it was a pleasant day and a pleasant drive. I had never been to the monastery before; it was beautiful. We started carrying things in from the van--fabric for draping, boxes of glass candle cups, the metal "trees" that hold the candles, long poles that form the framework to drape the fabric on. The poles had to be put together. Once assembled, they were probably twenty feet tall or more, and incredibly heavy. We placed them in iron supports that I could hardly move by myself. Then we went up on a balcony and leaned over, draping the fabric on the supports.

We found the music room in the school nearby, and carried music stands across the parking lot to the chapel; we went up a tiny winding staircase to the attic and brought down something, I can't remember what it was, I just remember that winding stair. And we put candles in cups and placed them in dozens of holders.

After several hours, I was exhausted. I said I was going home and he asked if I would drive the other woman back to his apartment to pick up her car, since he was staying out there for a few more hours. Well, sure, how could I say no? So I drove her back. It was fine, but it was annoying. And before I left he asked if I would come back and help sell tapes Sunday night. I said I really didn't want to drive out again, but he didn't have enough help, so I reluctantly agreed.

The next night I dressed up and drove back out. But this time it was dark and since I had only been there once, I got lost. I had directions, but there were no street lights and I got completely turned around. I ended up on a country road; I passed a sign that said I was heading toward a lake. I started seeing scary newspaper headlines in my mind . . . I finally decided that I was going to have to pull off and turn around rather than continuing on this road to nowhere.

I pulled into what looked like a driveway just far enough to turn around, and suddenly a pair of dogs exploded out of the yard and jumped up on the car. I thought I was going to have a heart attack. I reversed out of there at record speed, expecting a householder with a shotgun to follow the dogs at any minute.

Somehow I finally found the chapel. I rushed in, found Tom's wife (girlfriend then), and apologized for being late. She said, "That's okay, I think we have enough help anyway, why don't you just go enjoy the concert?"

Well.

I was so exhausted, and so stressed out from the drive, and so, well, angry, that I felt like crying. I wanted to just leave, but I decided that would be petty, so I sat in the chapel and listened to the concert, which was wonderful, as always, but I don't suppose I got the enjoyment out of it that I would have under different circumstances. When it was over I rushed out to the car, not stopping to speak to anyone, and drove home. And the last couple of concerts that he's asked me to help on, I've been too busy.

That's my roadie experience.

I had a note from Cathryn Alpert yesterday, she wrote a book called "Rocket City" that I have on my "to be read" list. So since she took the trouble to write, I decided that I should probably read the book, and I went by Borders tonight to buy a copy. I think I'll take it on vacation with me. It starts out:

Three melons and a dwarf sat in the front seat of Marilee's '72 Dodge but the cop was not amused.

I also bought a copy of "The Logophile's Orgy" from the bargain table for $2.98. The author, Lewis Burke Frumkes, wrote letters to famous people and asked them what their favorite words were. Some of the answers are pretty interesting, like those of Edward Gorey:

My favorite word is "silence;" it would be perverse to go on.

and John Konner (Dean, Graduate School of Journalism, Columbia University):

My favorite word, this week, is "egg." It's plain. It's simple. It's minimialist. It doesn't waste syllables. It has a beginning and an end and no middle. Neverthless, it's potentially pregnant. It mates well with other words. Like "lemon." Lemon and egg.

I love words. I love some words for the qualities that they represent--safety, warmth, grace--and others for the way they sound--serendipity, captivating, momentum, ominous. Bob named azure, calm, and quiet, along with money and several that I can't put here.

Do you have a favorite word or words?

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