We wandered into a music and poetry slam Saturday night, a couple of trendy hipsters out on the town.
Packing some choice quotes from his favorite philosopher, Yogi Berra, on a folded piece of typing paper, Vince immediately made his way to a corner chair. Similarly armed with a blog post print out, I joined him and we perfected our familiar role as enthusiastic audience members.
One by one we saw musicians, singers, poets and artists get up on stage and do their thing.
We applauded, relaxed and enjoyed ourselves immensely, forgetting for a few hours that we were sitting in a converted basement of a house just a couple of streets over from our own.
It felt like the Bowery Poetry Club on a Saturday night, or Les Deux Magots in 1923.
I also forgot for a moment an important caveat of the invitation — every guest must participate.
I turned to take a sip of wine and froze for a moment as I heard my name. I’d planned to read a light post about Molly and my first trip to a yoga studio. I decided the situation called for a little more depth and I audibled with just seconds left on the game clock.
I grabbed my phone, quickly summoned Molly B and Me and began reading a recent post about my Grandma’s Mirror. My voice wavered a little, beads of sweat broke out on my forehead and I made eye contact with absolutely no one.
But the kind people at Le Mansion au Rue Parkway applauded warmly as I made my way back to my seat, flushed and relieved.
It’s not that easy to read your own stuff out loud, but I value these types of challenges because they keep us sharp and I value these types of friendships because they keep us inspired.
As Yogi Berra once said, “I just want to thank everyone who made this day necessary.”