in the fury of the moment

Ok, so I know I need to write more about Louis and why I fell in love with him. I think it happened again today, as I remembered some of the lyrics that he sang on Tuesday night and went onto napster and found the song. Even tonight, I felt my heart sink again as I listened to the song.

First let me explain where I went on Tuesday night. It was a local bluegrass venue ... and it might just have been the best kept secret that I have come across since moving down to North Carolina. This is the place I always somehow knew existed, on those quiet Friday summer evenings, when I was itching to hear good music and to feel like someone really understood my soul. I wish I could say that I discovered this place on my own, but I have to give my friend Matthew the credit. He told me about it a while back, but I wasn't able to go until just recently.

On Tuesday night I drove to this little out-of-the-way-town (if you think I'm telling you the name, you're crazy!) and looked for the little pottery shop I had been told about. I pulled up to a barn surrounded by cars - mostly trucks, and most of them looked older than me. There were some older men standing out front and they looked at me suspiciously as I eased my little NY-plated car onto the dirt road alongside the building. As I drove to the back of the building I saw even more cars. In fact the line of parked cars didn't seem to have an end. I had thought for sure I would be arriving to a small building with just a few people buzzing around ... instead it seemed I had stumbled into a local hot spot. It was only about 10 minutes after the festivities were supposed to have started, but there were TONS of people there.

I parked and walked up to the front door, feeling very suspicious in my gender especially (I had not seen another female yet) but somehow feeling a strange sense of familiarity about the place. I said hello to several different groups of men outside and walked in to find myself in a very hot pottery studio. I followed the sounds of laughter and guitars and ended up in a hot room filled with people and chairs and tables. I found a seat at a table, next to a woman who I came to know as Judy. Judy and I talked and she was surprised when I told her it was my first time there. She squeezed my arm and praised my courage for coming to a place like that "all by my lonesome". It seemed that I had associated myself with a woman who knew people, and I was promptly introduced to Jesse, Merv, TJ, and Clyde, "the man behind all the fun" there. I couldn't believe how friendly people were to me (even after hearing my Yankee accent and teasing me about it), and also how much they tried to get me to eat.

Though I was more than satisfied in the company of my new friends, I found myself a bit disappointed that I didn't hear any music playing. At just about the same time as I finished having that thought, I saw a door on the other side of the room quickly open and quickly close, revealing a brief glimpse of soft lighting and sweet music. I asked Judy what was behind the door, and she told me that's "where it all happens". I found out that's where the bluegrass is played. I had thought they played out in that first room, and apparently they had at some point, but the whole event had gotten so big that they built on a performance hall of sorts. I was able to be cordial with Judy for a few more minutes before I walked quickly back to the door I had seen open only a few times.

As I closed the door behind me, my eyes adjusted to the soft glow of white twinkle lights draped along the walls. The stage was filled with eight people of various shapes and sizes, but they all had one thing in common: each of them held in their hands some type of stringed instrument, and from that instrument was flowing pure silk. I found a seat ... at first glance I thought all of the seats in the row were reserved, because they all had homemade seat cushions on them. But I soon discovered that all of the chairs had those cushions on them. I sat down and didn't get up again for about 3 hours.

It was incredible. I couldn't stop smiling, with my mouth, but also with my eyes and with my heart. Every concern and worry and care dropped away as I witnessed people pouring their souls into the strings of a guitar or banjo, and spilling their hearts into a microphone. It was beautiful and magical, and I'm not sure that I have ever experienced anything quite like it.

Several different bands came up to play ... basically the "official procedure" seemed to be that if you wanted to play, you gathered up your "band" and stood by the side of the stage to wait for the band that was on stage to come down. The first band was amazing, and I didn't want them to stop. The second bad was good, but I honestly think my heart had gotten off the stage with the first band and gone somewhere back into the other room to sit down and eat more collard greens and corn.

The second band was almost done with their songs, and I was looking forward to a change ... and THEN Louis sang. I had noticed him before, leaning back against the wall playing the huge stringed bass. He was a big man, and he was wearing a bright orange shirt with his name embroidered on a name tag that was stiched onto the shirt, and he had on a camoflauge baseball hat. He had spoken earlier in the show, and his words had been slurred and spoken in a strong country lilt, and I found it difficult to understand him. Somehow or another there was mention that he worked for the town's water department, and the bulk of what he spoke about seemed to be jokes on why "he's so fat" and how he ate up all the corn at the dinner that night. Nothing really disgusted me about Louis, but nothing really struck me about him either. I had seen him out in the pottery studio earlier, just after being referred to as a "sweet little thang" by several gentlemen. Louis didn't call me a sweet thang with his mouth, but everything about his gaze seemed to suggest he felt the same.

Anyway, back to the song ... apparently this is a song that some woman in the audience had asked him to sing, and he had been teasing her by waiting until the end. The song started with the driving low notes of the stringed bass and then the guitar, mandolin, and fiddle came in. I liked the sound but was still ready for the next band. Then Louis opened his mouth and began singing. His voice was like nothing I had heard before. It was all kinds of things wrapped up in one. It was raw emotion and soul and I had to close my eyes in an attempt to filter out the intensity of what I was experiencing. I don't really want to say the name of the song, because it has since taken on a special sacredness for me. I think this will be one of those songs that - if someone knows it - will immediately prove someone's worth and demand my respect for them. Incredible.

As I closed my eyes and rubbed at the goosebumps on my arms, I wondered if I could love a man like Louis. I wondered if I could live a life with my eyes closed, as long as I was with someone who sang like that. It sounds terrible and shallow and mean, but when I had my eyes closed Louis turned into a stunning man with rugged good looks. I didn't want the song to end, but obviously it eventually did. I found myself, along with the people around me, rising to my feet to clap and shout for Louis. It was incredible.

As the next band came on, the music seemed to slow and the twinkle lights seemed to twinkle a bit more softly. Older couples took their places at the fringes of the room and swayed closely to the music. Something about the place felt comfortable and sweet and right. For some reason, the rest of the evening I couldn't stop thinking about my future. I thought what the summer nights of the rest of my life might be like someday ... I thought about being in the arms of my husband. No, I didn't really fall in love with Louis. But I fell in love with the idea of the feeling I got while listening to Louis.

I am learning a little bit more about what I want, for my life, and in a man. I am not a checklist person, where I will completely push someone away if they aren't meeting certain requirements that I think are important. But I have established some non-negotiables, even if I am flexible about how they are expressed. If ever I find someone who is man enough for me, he must do the following things:
- slow-dance with me in the living room, to the song that Louis sang and to others
- hold me in the morning (and kiss me at least once), even if I have morning breath and my hair is scary-looking
- wrestle with me on the front lawn (or really, anywhere) and not be afraid that he is going to hurt or break me
- bring me flowers "just because" ... not flowers from a fancy florist, but wildflowers from a field on the side of the road, or from a garden (mine or someone else's)
- get up earlier than me in the morning to start the coffee and to bring me a cup as I'm waking up
- stay up with me at night to lay under the stars and talk about the rest of our lives
- recognize my strength (see the wrestling comment) but still need to be the "strong one"
- go skinny-dipping with me in a mountain stream (this is AFTER we're married, remember)
- enjoy listening to, and appreciate a wide spectrum of music - from songs like "American Woman" to "Gettin' Jiggy Wit' It" to "Sunshine on My Shoulders"
- be the one to suggest hopping in the car and driving to the mountains or the beach (preferably the mountains), just for the day
- scream louder than me on roller coasters
- pray for me
- cry in front of me
- pray in front of me
- cry for me
- dance not-slow with me (to songs like "American Woman" and "Gettin' Jiggy Wit' It")
- surprise me (not with anything in particular ... I'm just pretty quick, so it takes a lot to surprise me)

... I know there are other things, and maybe it's silly to write a list like that. But those were just things that, for one reason or another, were on my mind on Tuesday night as I looked around that room and saw couples who have probably been married for more years that I have been breathing air in this place. I looked at them dancing closely and felt a happiness about the sweetness of what they were sharing at that moment.

I also have decided that I want to raise up children in this kind of culture. Maybe not in North Carolina, and maybe not exactly with bluegrass music (though that would be wonderful) ... but a culture where a man is not embarassed to call his wife "sug" and to smack her butt as she walks past him. A culture where a man is not too much of a man to walk out onto a dirty cement floor and pull his wife close to him, despite the fact that neither of them is a very good dancer and they move a bit off beat to the music. A culture where a complete stranger invites you to sit down and eat a dinner and won't let you pay a cent for it, despite the fact that everyone else is handing money to the cashier at the end of the table. Sure, the people I met the other night might be "unrefined" ... they might not have college degrees, or even high school degrees. But they have heart. They have soul. And they live life by loving it and loving each other and not worrying about what anyone else might think of them. There were some kids there the other night, and they all seemed to have huge grins on their faces. I didn't hear any whines about the flavor of soda, or whether or not there was an X-box to play ... they were out there dancing and laughing and even playing mandolin. It was good, and right, and real, and it hurts me to think about the fact that some people never ever know that kind of reality exists.

One more thing I look forward to (well, there are lots, but here is just one) ... Louis singing that song at my wedding someday. I will find that big, goofy, giant of a man, and I will buy him a clean bright orange shirt and a new camouflauge hat, and I will dance slowly with my new husband (not Louis, he'll be there with his stringed bass, singing) as he croons and takes the guests' (there won't be many of them) breath away.

posted by Krista @ 9:06 PM