Share in a Dream
I was born in 1910. Guess that means I'm almost eighty three now. Seems impossible...why it seems like only yesterday when, as a small boy, I... My health is still good though. Oh, the hearing isn't exactly what it used to be...and the eyesight... But, basically, I'm in good health. I get lots of exercise...love to walk! And, of course, that snipper of brandy every night...my "heart medicine" the Doctor calls it. And I try to eat sensibly too; at least most days. I was getting hungry, and that is how this story began.
I met her where she worked; in a tiny restaurant with bright blue and white curtains. We became acquainted around the salad bar which she was sprucing up, became friends around bites of savory spare ribs.
She is striking physically...deep dark eyes that seem bottomless, hair worn in the most recent fashion,...sensuous lips...
But appearance aside, that was not what attracted me to her. There was something in her demeanor...a hint of something even more intriguing than her looks. About her there was the presence of a dream.
Feeling terribly self conscious, I said: "I hope you don't mind me asking, but you impress me as someone who harbors a dream. Mind telling me about it?"
She stared at me incredulously for several l-o-n-g seconds. "It shows?!" she finally blurted.
"Well,...I paused, weighing my options, and then decided just to be entirely straightforward with her. After all, she did not deserve less. I said simply "yes."
She noticeably flinched, mumbling almost inaudibly: "I didn't think it was that obvious."
I said nothing, merely gazed into those amazing eyes.
"I...I want to be a musician."
"That's great!" I encouraged.
"You don't understand. I mean one day I want to perform with a major symphony orchestra, not with some small-time band doing `gigs' on weekends!"
"You mean like playing Principal with the Philadelphia or Chicago symphony?"
Her jaw dropped. "EXACTLY," she radiated. "You do understand!" There was between us communion. I didn't need to speak; just nodded. Her words came forth in a tumble.
"I took up the clarinet just to please my folks...and for something to do. Not much goes on in a little Village like this," she interjected parenthetically.
Again I nodded, feeling somewhat silly as if belaboring the obvious.
"But then the music got to me...really got to me...composers like Beethoven, Brahms, DeBussey...they've created something..." her voice broke with emotion.
"Yes," I said simply, "I know."
"I practiced a lot...not because I had to for Orchestra,...that was really a joke,...but because I love to make music! I began winning local concerto competitions...mainly because there wasn't any real competition. Then I got a chance to go to Interlochen for the Summer. What an experience! So close, but I didn't even want to come home on weekends!"
She hustled off to clear a table a couple of patrons had just vacated. I wondered if she would be back. I need not have worried. Returning, she picked up the conversation precisely where she had left it.
"There were kids there who were better players than I am...a lot better." She paused, "but music is not that important to them...it's like just another `extracurricular activity.' Look, I don't mean to put them down," she said apologetically, "it's just..." She shook her head.
"Not the most important thing in their lives," I finished for her.
She gazed at me with an expression of admiration and affection that I will never forget, before continuing: "Oh, I know it won't be easy. I'm working here," a single sweep of her head taking in the entire restaurant, "so I can buy a Buffet clarinet. I have to own a quality instrument, if I'm to make it. And I'm saving my money to go to State when I graduate from Benzie Central. They have a world-renowned clarinet teacher there."
"Yes, I've heard that," I interjected, feeling rather sheepish, fearful that I had distracted her. Again I need not have worried.
"You know the trouble with most people is they give up on their dreams too easily." With a wisdom belying her years, she said: "In order to achieve what you really want, you have to persevere...that's the key to success...no magic formula..." her voice trailed off into the rattling dishes.
I walked from the restaurant in to a warm, sunny, Spring evening. There was a faint breeze flowing soothingly up from the river. I walked pensively through the dusty, deserted streets of town, basking in the rich afterglow of our conversation.
I do not, of course, know what will happen to her. I didn't even catch her name. A pity, but then I probably won't be around to follow her career anyway. But, oh how I wish her well! Perhaps she will succumb to the inevitable temptations of becoming a wife and mother, and forsake her dream. But, you know, I really don't think so. What I do know, however, is a place where a dream is now alive and well. It is a dream that has the capacity to enrich all our lives. May, I pray, it find fulfillment, for your sake,...if not mine.
I left that small Village with far more than I had expected. Somehow, almost miraculously, I had gained a share in a dream!