cheeseball post

They're round, orange, salty, crunchy, and they stain the tips of my fingers. What's not to love?

I do love cheeseballs. But this post ain't actually gonna be about cheeseballs.

When I was in high school I was in a play called "Our Town". It was my first and only foray into drama, without props, songs, or even costumes. Lately I keep thinking about one of Thornton Wilder's lines, and I only remember it because it belonged to my character.

Well, I died rather young, married, and maybe even with kids (can't quite remember). And I am reflecting on my life, revisiting the place that I lived and loved, a small quiet town. I am looking around and naming the places and things, for the sake of the audience, because, remember - no props. A tree that I especially loved, favorite spots, that sort of thing. I remember the director getting frustrated with me, as far back as auditions, because I couldn't get the gist of listing these items with any real feeling; he told me I sounded like I was reading off a grocery list.

He was so right, I just couldn't wrap my brain around it. "Do any people realize life while they live it? Every, every minute?" That was the question I asked, or something like that. And the answer was "Saints and poets maybe, they do some." I don't think you have to be a saint or a poet, to realize life though. Maybe you feel it more, the highs and lows, the beauty and the pain. But you can live your life. You can live it fully, and remember to examine the moments with appreciation. Take a mental snapshot. Feel the exquisite perfection of a funny little laugh from a child you love, or watch the clouds turn pink or gray or golden-edged. My goodness, does time ever speed by. It seems to slow down a bit, though, when you grab a few moments and squeeze them dry, drain all the sweetness and cast away the sting.

Thanks Dave Saadeh, for trying to teach me something. For teaching me something, even if it took me 17 years to learn it.