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Carol Perkins: Les Miserables - and Taylor Swift semi's
The play is her favorite, but her husband hates it. This time, she went, he went elsewhere, and both - as usual - had eventful experiences; handling them the way they did proved to writer that there's perfect balance in their marriage
To read past Carol Perkins columns on, enter her name in in the searchbox. The next earlier: Carol Perkins: My Trip to the Holy Land. Part II
By Carol Perkins
A couple of weekends ago, I went to TPAC (Tennessee Performing Arts Center) in Nashville to see my all-time favorite play Les Miserables.
I went alone since there were only two tickets left for the Saturday night performance, and they weren't together. I certainly wasn't going to invite Guy, who hated the play the only time I did drag him along and he thought it was over at intermission.
The idea of sitting among strangers did not deter me because I tend to chat with those around me unless they make it obvious they don't want to be bothered. At events with an edge of "society" attached, one never knows what type people, wrapped in diamonds and sparkles, might end up next to her.
I hated to take my jewels out of the lock box for the event, and my sparkles had sparkled out!
There is an advantage to buying last minute tickets. I had the choice of being in the Applause Society, which was thirteen rows from the front, or taking the only other seat, which was in the balcony. So, the Applause Society and I were so close we could read lips!
Since our daughter Carla and her family live in Brentwood, Guy was going to drop me off and then go out to visit her for a few hours. In meandering through downtown Nashville trying to get to the center, we encountered a mob of mostly women and young girls, all headed for the Bridgestone Arena. "Somebody big must be here tonight."
BIG was an understatement. At least seven semi-trucks lined the sidewalk up 5th Avenue next to the arena, all with pictures of TAYLOR SWIFT on the sides! No wonder the girls, carrying signs and holding their mother's hands as they dashed across the street in front of us without looking, were in such a rush. SHE was in town.
I can't say I know much about Taylor Swift except that she has won many awards at such a young age, and is also one of the most generous celebrities, recently giving 750k to the tornado relief fund.
The only song I know is "Why You Gotta Be So Mean." I'm not sure that is the title, but I do know that is the key phrase. That song is one we could sing to every person we know who wears "mean" well.
After we eased through the crowd on up toward the capitol building, I wondered how much traffic Guy would have to fight in order to pick me up at the end of the play. I knew the play was nearly three hours long, so I was counting on the concert being over first. It wasn't. They ended at nearly the same time.
Meanwhile, I absorbed every note and lyric, wanting to sing along but not doing so for the benefit of those touching my arms on both armrests. There is nothing worse than paying to listen to professionals and having some wantabe singer next to you. I am not a crying person, but five times I had to wipe the tears. No other music brings me to this level of emotional intensity.
On the way home as I was reliving each act, Guy's critique of the play was this: "What is so good about a bunch of people dying on a woodpile?" It was a barricade and the men were soldiers. Now you might understand why he wasn't invited.
Even though this was not the way he would normally have spent his Saturday night (he would have been in the recliner), he got to visit with our grandson and take him to the toy store to buy the "graduation" present he promised him (Pre-K graduation of all things!) and see the rest of the family for a few hours.
I could have traveled alone, but he insisted I didn't need to be driving that distance alone in the wee hours. When there is something that is very important to me, he will see that I don't miss it as long as he doesn't have to go! That is a good balance for both of us.
No wonder we have been married so long.
This story was posted on 2011-06-05 03:56:53
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More articles from topic Carol Perkins:
Carol Perkins: My Trip to the Holy Land. Part II
Carol Perkins: My Trip to the Holy Land Part I
Carol Perkins: The Needle
Carol Perkins: Public Restrooms
Carol Perkins: The Red Box
Carol Perkins: Just One More Time
Carol Perkins: I'm walking the floor over you
Carol Perkins: Things that are bound to happen
Carol Perkins idea of mental trash receptacle a great one
Carol Perkins: A Cluttered Mind
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