Jan 23, 2002
"You mustn't squeeze a melon till you get the melon home..."
When I played in the orchestra for Guys and Dolls back in 1994, my very long hair caught fire right at the beginning of the Manhole Dance. My stand partner had placed a small citronella candle between our seats to keep the mosquitoes at bay, and I leaned down to get something out of my violin case and ended up having to pat out the flames as my hair filled the pit with a very unfortunate smell that lasted the rest of the night. I went home and spent three or fours hours trimming away the singed ends in the bathroom. When I called my parents in Italy to tell them the further poor luck that had befallen me (suffice it to say that this was not the first in a string of maddening occurrences in my young life at the time), the laughter came almost immediately. Never the question of whether I was okay. Just the laughter. I remember that being the case when we lived in Japan and I slipped on our hardwood floor and came thudding down the stairs. The rest of the family heard the clamor from the dining room. Once I stopped falling, there was only a moment's pause before I heard the laughter. It's so reliable, it has almost become its own form of warm reassurance.
Me: Hello, Mom. Guess what? My apartment burned down.
I tripped and knocked all my teeth out.
My car was swept away in a flood.
*insert freak mishap here*
Mom: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha...
This is a little exchange I can have in my head any time of the day. Just for fun.
posted by Mary Forrest at 12:38 PM | Back to Monoblog