brigadoon

saturday was our anniversary, 23 years. we had planned to go out, but friday was a bad day that persisted into a bad night, and it carried over into saturday, so we ended up staying home. on saturday nights the educational television station runs classic movies, and sometimes we'll stay up to catch them. we sat down just as it was about to start, and it happened to be "Brigadoon", the Lerner and Lowe musical about a mythical Scottish village that only appears out of the highland mist for one day every hundred years.


funny coincidence that this particular musical should be showing on our anniversary. it was while we were in a production of that play that we fell in love. in our local community theatre such romances occurred often. sometimes the romances were between married people who didn't happen to be married to each other, and this particular community theatre was roughly equal in the numbers of marriages it produced compared to those it wrecked. for my bride-to-be, it would turn out to be one of each. her seven year marriage had ended due to her affair with a married man in the troupe the year before i met her.


but watching that movie brought back some memories. god, i really don't like gene kelly, but cyd charisse was certainly a babe. and my character was played by van johnson -- *insert puking sound here*. not the best written play; much of the dialogue was drivel and too few of the lines were funny. and the movie was not particularly well directed; i think some of our scenes turned out better than the movie.

as we watched we tried to remember who played what part:



"who was the director?"
ummmm...... Charles."
"and who played Charlie Dalrymple?"
"i don't remember...was it Ryan?"
"no, he played the one who was going to leave."
"Harry Beaton."
"yeah."
"i can't remember who played Charlie."



as i sat there i couldn't resist replacing the scenes on the tv with the ones from my memory. like the line "my aim is to be hospitable, not philanthropic!" or when Mr. Lundie says "... witches -- evil, destructive women. i don't suppose you have such women in your time?" to which i reply, "aye, we have them, but we pronounce it differently."

our Mr. Lundie was played by Fred, who was true embodiment of the word "gentleman". i first met him when he called in to report that our cable line was causing his roof to leak. sounded far-fetched to me, but he was exactly right. and he was nice about it. a few years later i was at his house again installing additional outlets or something, and the installer was with me. as we were finishing up, we were talking to Fred and his wife.
there happened to be an exercise bicycle in the room, and the installer just up and decided he'd just get on it. i was speechless. i gave him a look that i was sure said "get off!" but he just sat there unaware. finally i asked him as nonchalantly as i could "James, would you mind getting off of their bike?" Fred never mentioned it and never seemed to be upset by it, but i damn near died of embarrassment.


but the star of the show was, of course, Marlela, or Marti for short. she played Fiona and she sounded better than cyd charisse. she was fit and thin and pretty, but usually serious. her daughter at age twelve was already a beauty as well. Marti sang at our wedding and was a close friend. i remember when they bought a new house (her husband's idea, i think) and they were selling their old house. or trying to, anyway. they held an auction and never got a single bidder to meet their minimum. afterwards she was telling the auctioneer/realtor "God told me this house sold today, and I'm standing on that promise." at the time i remember thinking you're standing on the front porch. but i liked Marti and would never have said as much out loud, never would ridicule her or her faith. the auctioneer didn't either. he just answered her "i hear ya" but i wondered if he was thinking the same thing i was. after he left we went inside and Marti still had some furniture so we sat and talked. she had a piano and a guitar too. i usually cannot resist a guitar, so i picked it up and strummed out "honey, hi" and she said that guitar had never sounded so good. made me blush a little.



her marriage broke up not too long after that, i don't really know why. i just know that she held on to her faith. by chance one day i saw her daughter who happened to be working at a travel agency i went into, and she told me Marti had gotten a job and apartment in the city. she gave me the phone and address. i got a chance to stop and see her once on one of my monthly trips down that way. i can't remember what we talked about. probably our kids. her daughter was grown; our son was pretty much spoiled, as Marti had warned us we were doing. it was nice to see her, glad i had stopped. but she seemed lonely to me, not quite at peace with her situation. i wondered if she was "waitin' for her dearie", or perhaps Jesus was her only love now.

a few years later, my wife saw Marti's daughter, who was by then married and had a little girl, i think, of her own. she and her husband had moved back to our little town and started a business. when my wife asked about Marti she found out that Marti had passed away the year before. her daughter had planned to to get together one weekend, but when she called her mom Marti wasn't answering the phone. they went to check on her and found her in the bathtub. seems like it was ten years ago, but it was only two. it made me sad to think of her dying alone.

as i watched cyd charisse sing and dance, i thought of Marti and just wanted to cry. beside me, my wife already was.


godspeed, Marti.