{"id":1523,"date":"2015-12-27T03:45:22","date_gmt":"2015-12-27T03:45:22","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/calirose.com\/wackyworld\/?p=1523"},"modified":"2015-12-28T00:47:56","modified_gmt":"2015-12-28T00:47:56","slug":"this-is-my-seat","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/calirose.com\/wackyworld\/this-is-my-seat\/","title":{"rendered":"THIS IS MY SEAT"},"content":{"rendered":"

When I saw Frank Sinatra perform at The Universal Amphitheatre in Los Angeles, the whole aroma of the evening burrowed into my memory. The theater is gone now and so is Frank. But after all these years I can still\u00a0smell<\/em>\u00a0the evening.<\/p>\n

I was one of thousands ensconsed in the darkness of this gigantic space, my eyes focused on the lone spotlight that Sinatra inhabited like he owned the sun, and when he turned his head in my direction and sang \u201cEmbrace me, my sweet embraceable you,\u201d magic happened. Every other person in that audience disappeared. I mean \u201cwhoosh<\/em>.\u201d All that was left was Frank and me. He was singing to me. Just me.<\/p>\n

Frank Sinatra had that ineffable \u201cthing.\u201d I saw it and felt it that night and certainly hear it today in his recordings. It\u2019s like he\u2019s\u00a0talking<\/em>\u00a0to me and it feels like I\u2019m part of the conversation. This is an astonishing gift of\u00a0inclusion<\/em>.<\/p>\n

He is my favorite singer. That said, I would not have wanted to take him to lunch.<\/p>\n

This is a tough one for me\u2026 Living with ambiguity, residing in the uncomfortable gray zone of life. We are all a mixed-bag of stuff and Frank certainly exemplified this. He had that enormous talent. He could be astonishingly generous but he also treated people miserably. I have\u00a0read the stories<\/a>\u00a0and I\u2019ve heard a couple first hand. He is not someone I would have wanted to hang out with.<\/p>\n

I bring this perplexing contradiction of emotions to Party Night at the Saban Theater in Beverly Hills. It\u2019s Saturday, December 12 and this night is Frank Sinatra\u2019s 100th Birthday. His son, Frank Jr., is singing with a 32-piece orchestra and telling stories about dear old dad.<\/p>\n

\"frankandjunior\"<\/p>\n

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I saw the advertisement for this show six months ago.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou want to go with me?\u201d I ask my husband.<\/p>\n

He laughs and says \u201chave a good time.\u201d<\/p>\n

So I get online, study the seating chart and claim MY SEAT. It\u2019s second row mezzanine, as center as center can be.<\/p>\n

\"mezzanineview\"
My view from the mezzanine. During intermission some of the musicians took selfless before running backstage to pee.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

The night finally arrives and with my hot ticket in hand I am swallowed in a crush of L.A.\u2019s beautiful people. This audience is inter-generational. Young ladies are wrapped in mink stoles. Older women are wearing high heels and fashionable ensembles with expensive fabric and arrays of fancy jewelry around their necks and wrists.<\/p>\n

I am not one of\u00a0them<\/em>.<\/p>\n

I hunker down in MY SEAT, brush the lint off my jeans (well\u2026they are nice jeans\u2026and clean), push my unhip but totally utilitarian backpack purse under the seat, and arrange my jacket just so\u2026like a warm pillow against my back. My nest is feathered.<\/p>\n

I am one person in a sea of couples and groups. That\u2019s when \u201cthey\u201d arrive at my row. The very tall woman with the short cropped blond hair and hip blue glasses looks down at me and with stunning hubris announces that \u201cmy husband and I want to sit together. Please move over one seat.\u201d<\/p>\n

Are you picturing this? They purchased one ticket to my left and one ticket to my right and she wants me to move.<\/p>\n

This is one of\u00a0those<\/em>\u00a0moment… Too often in my life I back down, acquiesce and later flog myself for doing so. Then again, what\u2019s the big deal, moving over one seat?<\/p>\n

These two opposing thoughts rush through my head. But this woman has such a haughty air of entitlement that she pisses me off.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo,\u201d I say.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy not?\u201d She snaps back.<\/p>\n

\u201cBecause this is MY SEAT.\u201d<\/p>\n

In a huff, she sits to my left as her husband settles to my right and I pull my arms close to my body like a figure skater beginning her spin. I\u2019m thinking to myself \u201cthis is going to be a LONG night.\u201d<\/p>\n

But the husband is an amiable guy. After a few uncomfortable moments he turns to me and asks if I know what\u2019s going to happen at the show. Do I look like a freaking oracle?<\/p>\n

\u201cYou like Sinatra?” I ask.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell my wife does.\u201d<\/p>\n

Oh\u2026so the mister got dragged along for the ride.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell at least you are here. My husband is home. Asleep.\u201d I laugh. We laugh. \u00a0This brief interlude softens the missus and, like that, she and I start chatting. She tells me that her parents played Sinatra records on Sunday mornings during the family breakfast. \u201cAll The Way\u201d is her favorite song. She\u2019s a physical therapist and makes house calls.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you do?\u201d she asks.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m a musician and singer.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat kind\u201d?<\/p>\n

\u201cThe kind that gets paid.\u201d I chirp.<\/p>\n

She turns out to be an okay person. Not someone I\u2019d hang out with, but okay. Both of them. And I stay in MY SEAT.<\/p>\n

The concert begins and the adoring crowd \u201cooo and ahh\u201d as Frank Jr. sings those iconic songs and the trombone wails on \u201cI\u2019ve Got You Under My Skin.\u201d They purr as the pictures of young Sinatra, middle-aged Sinatra and finally Sinatra on the memorial postage stamp appear on the big screen behind the orchestra. It\u2019s a love-in.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/p>\n

But I\u2019m not feeling it.<\/p>\n

These days my adoration is tempered with a measure of ambivalence. Truth is messy. People are a complicated concoction of ingredients. We can be kind and cruel. Wise and stupid. Self-centered and open-hearted. The list goes on and on.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m not solving this one. Just living it.<\/p>\n

______________________________________<\/p>\n

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PROGRAM NOTE:<\/p>\n

My ukulele group, The CC Strummers, really rocked our holiday party. My idea of a good time is getting the audience in on the fun. I put together a short video of our program. It’s two minutes and forty-eight seconds of joy. Click HERE<\/a> to watch.<\/p>\n

______________________________________<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

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2016 is looming large. Another 366 days of UNKNOWN. Leap year, it is. What makes you happy? Or content?<\/p>\n

Good health for sure… Hanging out with people who feel like sunshine on a cloudy day? Yummy food? Homemade. A job well done, whatever it is? A solid night\u2019s sleep or a deep dreamy afternoon nap? A clear black sky where you see wisps of the Milky Way? The husband you love? Wife? Kids? Friends? Dog? Kitty? Catching all the green lights? A place to call home, with floor, ceiling, walls, heat and pictures on the wall?<\/p>\n

I hope you have lots of sweet moments to remember in the New Year.<\/p>\n

\"Frank
Frank Sinatra’s ukulele he played to “woo” his first wife. As for the next three wives, who knows…<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n
<\/div>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

When I saw Frank Sinatra perform at The Universal Amphitheatre in Los Angeles, the whole aroma of the evening burrowed into my memory. The theater is gone now and so is Frank. But after all these years I can still\u00a0smell\u00a0the evening. I was one of thousands ensconsed in the darkness of this gigantic space, my eyes focused on the lone spotlight that Sinatra inhabited like he owned the sun, and when he turned his head in my direction and sang … Read More<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_seopress_robots_primary_cat":"","_seopress_titles_title":"","_seopress_titles_desc":"","_seopress_robots_index":"","kt_blocks_editor_width":"","_kad_blocks_custom_css":"","_kad_blocks_head_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_body_custom_js":"","_kad_blocks_footer_custom_js":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1523","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-blogentry"],"taxonomy_info":{"category":[{"value":2,"label":"blog entry"}]},"featured_image_src_large":false,"author_info":{"display_name":"Cali Rose","author_link":"https:\/\/calirose.com\/wackyworld\/author\/crbauthor\/"},"comment_info":23,"category_info":[{"term_id":2,"name":"blog entry","slug":"blogentry","term_group":0,"term_taxonomy_id":2,"taxonomy":"category","description":"","parent":0,"count":138,"filter":"raw","cat_ID":2,"category_count":138,"category_description":"","cat_name":"blog entry","category_nicename":"blogentry","category_parent":0}],"tag_info":false,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/calirose.com\/wackyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1523","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/calirose.com\/wackyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/calirose.com\/wackyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/calirose.com\/wackyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/calirose.com\/wackyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1523"}],"version-history":[{"count":12,"href":"https:\/\/calirose.com\/wackyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1523\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1539,"href":"https:\/\/calirose.com\/wackyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1523\/revisions\/1539"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/calirose.com\/wackyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1523"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/calirose.com\/wackyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1523"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/calirose.com\/wackyworld\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1523"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}