Lots going on in Sandpoint this weekend. Long Bridge Swim. The Festival. Class of 1995 reunion. We're indirectly involved with two of the three. They mean company's comin'.
Laura, Sefo, and the triplets will be here for the next couple of days to help cheer on the Thompson family swimmers. I'm don't know who, besides Kirsten, is taking the plunge into the cool waters and swimming across Lake Pend Oreille tomorrow morning, but I'm sure they'll have plenty of friends and relatives standing along the walking bridge to cheer them on. From what Laura says, tents are in order at the Thompson cabin cuz so many family members are gathering from out of town.
Late this afternoon, Willie shows up for his tenth-year class reunion. I doubt we'll see too much of him because tonight's festivities begin around 6 p.m. From what I recall of my ten-year class reunion, Bill and I came home about 2:30 in the morning after an evening at the old Elks Club on Second Avenue and a very early-morning breakfast at Connie's. After last week's post-ten p.m. food quest during my 40th-year gathering, which eventually landed us at the Taco Bell parking lot, I'll be sure to tell him to watch the clock if he wants to eat dinner at a Sandpoint restaurant.
The Festival started last night with Broadway show tunes. It'll be running the next two weekends. Bill and I will attend the finale concert on Aug. 14. It will be our first time to the Festival since working as head ushers for five years. We hit burn-out back then after too many long hours of dealing with the hard-core guests---like the WWII veteran who insisted that it was his right to smoke cigarettes and blow his smoke in the midst of the crowd or the jerks who started incidents within the ranks after drinking far beyond their limit.
Our usher crew would always come to us with the really tough customers, and then we'd have to deal with situations that called for ultimate patience, supreme diplomacy but firm conviction. Probably the most vivid incident occurred that last year when Bill picked up an inebriated, obnoxious guest by the back of the shirt, in the middle of the audience, and deposited him into the aisle as amazed but appreciating faces looked on.
When the very uncouth guy struggled to his feet, my normally soft-spoken, laid-back husband gave him the finger jam all the way out of Memorial Field. His girl friend continued to call me the "M-F" word as she accompanied her boozin' boyfriend out the gate. That and a few other choice challenges gave us the cue that it was time for someone else to replace us in our executive volunteer position.
We look forward to attending a classical concert several years later as guests, thanks to Trish and the River Journal. We'll simply enjoy the scene, the food and the music and feel empathy for the usher crew.
A happy and fun weekend to all.
6 comments:
I am having difficulty in visualizing this incident....what would Ora say? Mmmmmmm
Bill reminds me so much of his soft-spoken father....what a class act he was... Did Annie or Will ever get to know the paternal side of their family?
Didn't get to spend meaningful time with Grandfather, but I do remember evenings listening to Grandmother tell stories about Louisana politics. Also realized where Dad got his insatiable appetite for ice cream.
The thing Seth Noonan remembers about Grandmother is the words of advice when we went to New Orleans for Y2K: be careful because it is a killing city. Not sure if she was talking about the number of murders there, or the splitting headaches the morning after a trip to Burbon street. Either way, we heeded her warning and made it out alive - barely.
(For Mom) I am probably getting off work around 3:30 or 4 and plan to go running before I stop by the place. I didn't realize the festivies started so early.
Will....you're probably a clon of your father...I'd love to meet you someday....but before I do....you must learn how to spell the most famous street in New Orleans where your Aunt Margaret got married...
A minor clarification: Yes, Joe Cowan and I were married in New Orleans (June 23, 1979), not on Bourbon Street, but in the patio of a guest house on Chartres Street, two blocks off Bourbon Street. Dott (with two t's) attended with her husband Dennis. We held the ceremony in the morning (10am or 11am) before the sweltering heat wore everyone down.
Glad to have that all cleared up. I told Willie via email that Dott (with two T's) said he'd better learn how to spell "Bourbon."
Marianne
Aha! A typo! Avenged at last! Don't worry though, "I'm" won't hold it against you (yeah, right!)
-'toonist
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