The Story of Tonight

The family ventured to Chicago the very last week of summer before school started.  I didn't plan out this trip other than vague notions of places we wanted to go.  Mallory had heard the Museum of Science and Technology was great. (It was!)  Riley wanted to explore her roots at the Polish museum and eat at a Polish restaurant.  George rolls with us ladies, bless him. I had looked into theater.   The only musical I found was "An American in Paris" and no one was thrilled about seeing it, including me so I let it go.  And then, about seven days before we left, I randomly looked online again.  And this search discovered... Hamilton.  

What?!!!  

I didn't know it has been in residence in Chicago since September 2016.  My heart started beating quickly.  Were there tickets?  The excitement began building.  I had given up and felt helpless trying to see Hamilton at all.  We had gone to NY last summer but tickets were rare and extremely expensive. So I just let the idea of seeing the wildly phenomenal musical go.  I also let the touring version go, because it seemed too hard to do. 

I let the desire die.

I was throwing away my shot.

(I didn't even know the music...and I didn't know that was a line)  But not for long.

I just knew many, many people loved the show, and it was about American history which my family is into and it won Tonys. 

So now, this discovery that it is in Chicago!  And... there were a few tickets in the very back still available!! Boom! I knew I just wanted to be in the room where it happens.  So I brought it with the girls.  Mallory was interested but she was more interested in Aladdin.  Riley did not care although she had been the one that led to my search for NYC tickets the year before.  I texted George, and bless him, he left it up to me. He was my George (Washington) on my side.

I percolated on it during the day while on errands. Do I say no to this? Is it too much $$?  But was it worth it to blow us all away?  Do I drag the girls (well, Riley because I knew Mallory would be satisfied)  The irony is that we were originally only going to stay two nights in Chicago before we headed to Wisconsin to visit relatives.  My intuition made me push it to three nights thinking there would be things to do in the big city.  And that third night ending up being the night of the availability of tickets. (And the day before my birthday!!) 

So, we did go, and it was freaking fabulous!  But in all honesty, getting there wasn't pretty.  I have claustrophobia and it kicked in just thinking about getting on a plane before this trip.  I also have a fear of crowded spaces and this was a packed small venue with two balconies.  And in the end, my excitement over this very special opportunity helped ease my fear of flying.  Riley is not as enthralled with theater as Mallory and I are, and she would have stayed at the hotel if allowed.  She wanted to take a break after being on a Mission Trip the previous week.

But we dragged her. 

I don't really know what my expectations were but it went beyond them even knowing how popular it was. I was verklempt when sat down in our last row seats of the first balcony.  Mallory was my right hand man.  The energy in the place was palpable and I was thrilled to have seats next to the exit door!! To save money, George and Riley were on the same row but the opposite side of the theater.


The week before we went, Mallory listened to the soundtrack on YouTube and already had her favorites.  I borrowed the CD from my neighbor and listened in the car as George and I drove to Florida to pick Mal up from a trip.  The three of us listened to the second act (each act has 23 songs!) on our way back to Baton Rouge and I was moved to goosebumps and tears listening to the very last song.  "Who lives, who dies, who tells your story?"  I wasn't alone being moved by the last song.

What comes next?

This musical was simply and utterly beyond.  I was transfixed in my seat and knew I needed to soak it all in as much as possible.  The story, the choreography, the talent blew me away. It was such a combination of history, hip hop, Broadway ballads and pop. Mallory and I were thrilled and chatted back and forth quietly. When King George walked out to the stage and before he said anything, people clapped. The same for the actor who played Hamilton.  The excitement of the crowd was thrilling.

And when it was over, wait for it...George said Riley laughed and smiled. And Riley told on George and said he cried at the last song. Seriously, I have only see him cry at Seabiscuit and Secretariat.

He knew it was something special.

Since we have been back in Baton Rouge, I have found a few people who have seen it or those who know every line to every song and want to see it.  And we gush non stop about how good it is and it's hard to find words to describe it.  That's when you know it's something extraordinary. 

So very glad I did not throw away my shot.

Your obedient scribe.

C. Gol

Dad And Trees and Speaking Up

Dad died three years ago today.  I wrote a piece right after dad died about how I wished I could have connected more with him.  I longed for personal interaction.  I don't remember any conversations or activities that we did together just the two of us.  It felt like a huge void in my life.  I was boy crazy from an early age.  I was that girl that had to have a boyfriend and as I look back, I wish I would have had more respect for myself.  I cringe but am learning to laugh when I watch a sitcom that makes fun of a young woman with "daddy issues." That was me. It is a thing.  I am aware of it now.

I am also aware that I tend to freeze in place and not act even when I know what to do. I don't speak up. I didn't have the confidence. I'm learning.

Months ago at a teenage values seminar at our church that broached sexuality, one of our youth pastors advised dads of girls: pay attention to your girls and hug them.  They need it and it reduces sexual promiscuity.

When George and I were dating, and we talked about having a family,  I remember telling him that if we had girls he had to pay attention to them, talk to them and do things with them.  I said it once and he has obliged my request since they were born.  I now can see (after George pointed it out!) that it came out as a forceful demand on my part.  I don't regret it.  I spoke up.  I am thrilled that the girls connect with him.  It is necessary and needed.

Yet it also brings up sadness as I type.  There will always be the little girl in me that needs her daddy's attention. It took me many years to accept Dad as he was and it wasn't an easy process. I was angry for a long while and then I grieved.  I grieved him before he died and eventually came to a place of acceptance.  I then could appreciate what he did give me.  I know that he loved me but he could not say it out loud.  I admit I have trouble with this myself.  It was much easier to express love with my children when they were younger than it is with grown people.  I have work to do, to practice vulnerability, to speak up.  It's new territory. Dad's form of love was to provide a roof over my head, clothe, feed and educate me.  Education was really important. And I'm grateful for that.  I really see that now.

Dad loved the outdoors.  I remember his very tanned arms.  On the other hand, I'm an A/C girl who likes to write and talk about thoughts and feelings and spirituality and go to yoga.  He was a gardener, hunter and fisher.   Years before he died, he built a cabin on family property that goes back several generations.  He built it for his family to use. He didn't talk about it or tell me, he just did it. Thanks to him, I'm a tree farmer and I enjoy walking with my brother and surveying the land. My kids love to ride the four-wheelers and get their feet wet in the creek and the girls love to kid me about my country roots, but I know they like it too.

My connection to him now is in land and trees.

And as I walk the dogs in my neighborhood on my street,  I found the most ironic display as a reminder.

Do you see it?

The tree is speaking to me.

Namaste.