White Knight

For the first time since our first visit to New Hope's Centre Bridge Inn, back in November, last night we had to sit at the bar instead of at a table.  Now, you might think this wouldn’t make much of a difference since we were there to HEAR Barbara Trent’s remarkable jazz stylings & she was singing less than 10’ away from us.

But it did.

The only seats available at the bar - after Jerry, kind soul that he is, gave up his so the three of us could light & set - were at the end.  All three of us were seated with our backs to Barbara.

My grannie client, usually over-the-moon with happiness at being there, was increasingly bereft as the night wore on.  The people on her left looked to be staying for the duration, so my g.c. couldn’t move over to at least get a side view.  Barbara was completely out of her sight.

<Seems the person who usually helps Kitty move a small table into the area near Barbara hadn’t come in that day & she was super busy with all the people who were clustered around the bar (at least double the usual amount).>

I was at a loss what to do.  There was no workable answer that would restore my g.c.’s usual high spirits hearing Barbara.  Since there was simply nothing I could do to remedy the situation, at least I could do something to from feeling impotent & frustrated, which wouldn't do anyone any good.  

Letting go of any reaction to the situation, I opened myself up to simply experience what unfolded, washing over instead of consuming me with irked edginess.

It was heartbreaking, yet fascinating, noticing how not being able to see Barbara, not having the usual back & forth of smiles, the camaraderie, the mutual admiration society, affected my g.c.   My body could feel her deep unhappiness.  It wasn’t just that she couldn't see & interact with Barbara;  for the first time since we started going up each Wednesday night, she didn't have a sense of her dear husband near at hand.  She was genuinely bereft.  The heavy weight on her heart & spirit  was tangible.  There was no comforting her.

Well, at least I couldn’t.  Thank goodness for the young man who turned her grey gloom into sunshine & happiness.

We’d never seen the fellow before.  John & I agreed he looked like a relative of Chris Christie, from his burly good looks to his magnetic personality.  With nowhere to sit at the bar (unheard of on a Wednesday night), he sat on one of the regular chairs that lined the wall.  When he came over to have his drink refreshed, he stood right next to my g.c. & started talking with her.

FACT (although she doesn’t believe it):  my g.c. has a winning personality that draws people into her circle.  Like all of the other regulars, this guy was a goner.  He made some slight comment, the sort you make out of politeness when you’re standing right next to something.  I couldn’t hear her reply, but I could see his eyes dance in response.  Kitty brought over his fresh drink, but he made no move to leave my g.c. & go back to his seat.  Her mood, which had been mournful, suddenly zipped up, her voice was shot through with sparkle.  He said he’d have to dance with her later, his face & being totally engaged with this woman clearly old enough to be his grandmother+.  She made some retort that totally cracked him up.  Finally, he put his hand on her arm & gave his goodbyes.

But he wasn’t through being her white knight.  Because he’d driven over an hour just to hear Barbara & there was no place for two people to eat at the bar (he was expecting a guest), he sweet talked Kitty into setting up a table for him near Barbara - and to set up a 2^nd for his new friend.  

Which is how we went from the doleful state of being seated at the bar, backs to the singing, to being front & center, my g.c. less than 6’ from Barbara.

NOW she could glory in the wonder of Barbara’s voice & astonishing musicianship, NOW, she could sense her husband close to her. 

The young man’s guest arrived & they settled in for a private dinner.  My g.c. never did get her dance, but that wonderful fellow, a  true knight in shining armor, saved a grannie in distress.  He restored her joy, her zip, her shimmer. 

Toward the end of the evening, we turned to thank him again - and he was gone. Like any white knight, fairy godmother or wily wizard, he did his good deed, saw all was well, and vanished.  My thanks to him for our gloriously happy ending.