This is a story about my first (and life-long) crush. We met at the movies. I was perched between my mother and father in a grand theater near downtown Washington D.C., my little legs dangling well off the floor. I remember the thick red curtains opening ever so slowly, revealing a screen of vibrant colors. And then there was music…an overture of rapturous sounds like I had never heard. Or felt. Maybe this was the first moment I realized I was alive. I was here in this world.
And that was only the beginning. Because it wasn’t long before I saw him. The man who taught me my first words in Latin: Et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera. This exotic bald creature, with glittering clothes that hung loosely on and off his b-o-d-y. He wore an earring. Who does that? Mister Clean? I don’t know if he’s a good guy. Or a bad guy. And I don’t care either. I love my daddy but now I love The King too.
This earth-shaking afternoon ignited my enduring passion for the music of Rodgers and Hammerstein. And Yul Brynner. I forgave him for playing “Rameses the Rotten” in The Ten Commandments. But, like my father, I would never forgive him for smoking.
I saw The King in person. Twice. The second time was at the Pantages Theater for his last Los Angeles whirl in The King and I. It was 1983 and Yul Brynner had received the dire news that he had inoperable lung cancer. But still, he totally inhabited his role as the king and for those blissful two and a half hours, it was just the music, the king and me…all over again. At the curtain call the audience cheered as he playfully spun one of the pedestal props around in circles and laughed–a deep, resonate exclamation of joy that bellowed clear up to the mezzanine. I can still hear it. I can still feel it.
🛒
But…I also saw Yul Brynner at a local grocery store…circa late 1960’s. The story unfolds like this:
Just as I am pushing my cart around the corner to the canned vegetable aisle, there he is. Doing a full squat as he examines cans of green beans on the bottom shelf. I am several feet away, hanging onto the cart with a death grip. It’s a Twilight Zone moment. Time stops. Everything disappears. Except him. I watch, in stunned silence, as The King gracefully rises to his feet, like a freaky middle-aged ballet dancer, drops a couple cans in his cart and rolls away. And just like that he’s gone, gone, gone. And me? I can’t get my legs to work. Fortunately there is no one in the general vicinity to witness this or tap me on the shoulder asking if I’m okay.
After regaining consciousness, I resolve that the next time I see someone, anyone, whose presence has touched me deeply, I will put on my big-girl pants and thank them for their work. That lesson has stuck.
😬
So… What does all this have to do with my cracked night guard?
Well my teeth-grinder-dentist retired and sold his practice to a new guy who re-opened the office in my old neighborhood, which today is upscale hip and has lousy parking. Not my kind of hang and it’s been a long time since I’ve walked along San Vicente Boulevard. My husband’s night guard is wonky too so last month we both head north…just a few miles…into another world (and for me, another time). He scores a parking spot without a meter. Dude!
That’s when I spot “THE grocery store.” OMG it’s still there, with a big banner out front promoting its 78th Anniversary. I can’t believe what I’m seeing and all those Yul Brynner and daddy memories are flooding back. In torrents.
I have to check this out and Craig gamely follows me into the store. It’s uncanny how my feet know exactly where to go. “To the left. Make a right.” Whoa! There are the green beans—on the same bottom shelf in the middle of the very same aisle. My husband stations himself exactly where the cart and I froze, lo those many years ago, and snaps a picture as I drop into my best Yul Brynner squat. Unlike his graceful re-ascension to a kingly stance, I have to push myself up with my hands. It’s not pretty, but mind you, I’m unpacking memories here, and doing the best I can…at this intersection of past, present and who-knows-what.
So I just try to take it all in. Breathe. Breathe. Give myself a little hug and an “atta-girl.” Because…after all these years…I’m still here. And still amazed at the wonder of it all.
Et cetera. Et cetera. Et cetera.
