So I'm going to sign up for some writing class at the local (downtown) senior center. It's been awhile since I have written anything. You guys remember I used to post my stories to get some feedback from my fellows at the Institute. Don't remember if I posted this one so I am going to post it again.
Whaddaya think guys?
When
the lights go down the curtains stay closed and then the music begins and grows
louder, and then you hear the soft shoes, slow at first, but then growing
faster. The curtain opens and there is Mary O'Connor, "The best
little hoofer to ever come out of Beacon High," as the music teacher, Mr
Cahalan, likes to say.
She is wearing a peppermint striped little jacket, and a rakish boater, and she has a cane as a prop. She gets to have her solo here and she hoofs up a storm. And then I come out of the wings, kind of drifting towards her at centerstage, an easy loping rhythmic stride, and I begin to sing:
"Are you from Beacon?
Are
you from Beacon?"
She cups her little pink shell of an ear in my direction as I drift into my position beside her.
"The Illinois River.
The
verdant farmland."
This is directed more towards the audience than at Mary, and then I take a deep breath so I can sing out that last line loud and proud.
"Beacon U S A."
Then a little silence with just the sounds of our hooves, I guess to give the viewers who have dropped their programs in all the excitement a chance to retrieve them.
And then little Mary's bell-like chime:
"Yes I'm from Beacon.
Yes
I'm from Beacon."
Probably it is just me that notices how for the next two lines she goes more distant, bored, almost sarcastic.
"The Illinois River.
The
verdant farmland."
But she has to tone it all the way up for the next line.
"Beacon U S A."
And then we do one of those dosey doe things, linking our arms and dancing in a circle.
"Oh we're from Beacon,
Oh
we're from Beacon.
The
Illinois River,
The
verdant farmlands.
Beacon U
S A."
I wrap my arm around her waist then, which strictly speaking isn't part of Mr Cahalan's directions, but Mary doesn't mind, not at all.
And then just after the U S A part, this other couple, kind of dance wander onto the stage, and Mary and I sing out to them:
"Are you from Beacon?
Are you
from Beacon?"
And then the whole thing again, ending up with the four of us in kind of a pinwheel at the end.
And then four more coming on, and after that eight more, which is really too many, because the first two are pretty good hoofers, but the next four are not so hot, and that last eight, well they can't dance at all. It is all they can do just to run to keep in place at the end of the pinwheel. And when it comes time to sing towards the audience they are all gasping, but anyway we all sing low, just so that we can hear Mary's sweet voice ring out.
"Are you from Beacon?
Are
you from Beacon?"
etc.
The first two rows are taken up by our classmates who return the favor:
"Yes we're from Beacon
Yes
we're form Beacon."
etc.
And then all together:
"Oh we're from Beacon
Oh we're
from Beacon."
etc.
And then, and then the first two rows of the audience turn around towards the rest of the audience and sing to them and etc, and etc, and etc.
And then, and then, it just goes on and on, just repeating itself, over and over, way more times than you would have thought were possible.
I was a pretty good dancer. It was just something I could do, like some guys can do those yo-yo tricks. I didn't live to dance or anything like that. But I was okay with it when Mr Cahalan wanted me to be in his annual Beacon Blast. If I had known that I would end up in that peppermint coat, boater, and cane, singing that song over and over I never would have done it, but then when I heard that Mary O'Connor would be dancing next to me, I guess I would have done it even knowing how it was going to turn out. Anyway I did it.
It's been over fifteen years since I knocked the Beacon off my boots. Mary went straight to New York when we graduated and was going to call me when she got settled, but then she never did, and that hoofing thing never worked out for me, not without her. I’ve been tending bar at the Ramada for the last couple years and it’s ok. Some things have gone alright and some things not but wherever I go and whatever I do, I will always know:
I'm from Beacon.
