Our glorious spring day on March 1st was a tease. We woke up yesterday morning with the same sun beaming in the window. We had plenty of time before our Matinee, so we put on our duds to go for a repeat walk around the lake. We left the hotel, spun around, went back in and put on more duds. The walk was so windy and cold we had to hang on to each other for dear life! We found out that in just 15 hours, the temperature had dropped from 64 to 20 degrees, and the winds were 50 to 60 MPH! What a refreshing way to start the day! (We noticed we were the only ones anywhere in sight.)
We arrived at the movie theatre at 12:00 and all was well. The piano was on stage in front of a curtain that covered the movie screen. It was a Yamaha, and the community raised the money to buy it. The six-footer was enough to fill this 145-seat hall. We knew we would have a cozy, packed, enthusiastic house. There was also a lovely dried flower arrangement on stage to grace the piano, complements of the theatre manager’s wife, who was the town’s piano teacher.
Frank broke the news to me about our “dressing room” one and a half hours before our show. Apparently the theatre office, which is what we were given, was now locked with the only key inside the locked room. Yikes! All my make-up, my gowns, everything for the show was in there! Terry, the manager, called the town locksmith to help us out. I thought it would only be moments now before we had access. The guy showed up, but had real trouble breaking in. He tried credit cards. He tried crowbars. Nothing worked. Now people were starting to show up for the concert, and I was in the lobby in my old jeans, tea shirt, with no makeup. The guy kept trying. I was then suggested to wait in the somewhat chilly alleyway until the door was forced open. My fingers were getting numb, and we had 15 minutes now until Showtime. (It takes me 30 minutes to get ready.) I told Frank that I had a “plan B,” and that I had an extra gown in the car, as well as extra makeup. Frank told me the car keys were in the locked room, too! Shoot!
Would these people get their money’s worth with me going on as is? I could improvise plenty of jokes about it. Pressure and mishaps are great inspirers.
Finally, at 1: 52 PM, the door opened to the “dressing room” and I had eight minutes before walking on stage. Someone got me a little hand mirror so I could do my makeup, and we just about made it. I ran down the cold side hallway, my high heals clicking and my gown’s train dragging, and hopped up there on the piano bench under the spotlights.
This little Hettinger audience rocked! We made jokes about everything, about being late, and why, about Frank “rock picking” (rooting around for the world-famous North Dakota petrified wood), about doing a concert in a movie theatre and more. We never felt more welcomed and wonderful. Luckily, we got some of this on tape with our new video camera.
Later we went to a local hangout for dinner with our contact person, Pam Harper, and her husband, Bob. The Sunday night special at this local hangout was waffles with all the trimmings. One person had a stack of pancakes that were the size of four or five pizzas piled up. People do like their food here! We enjoyed our conversation and Bob got all excited at the very idea that it was possible that through distant relatives, he and Frank could be related! Were there possibly some undiscovered inheritance claims?
There seems to be almost an instant familiarity when we meet Midwesterners. They may break the ice by taking a chance, asking, “Illinois license plates… do you know my cousin Suzy in Ottawa?” People not only know almost everyone in their own towns, but in the neighboring towns as well, as if everyone is a part of a patchwork in some gigantic quilt.
We made it to Milbank today after a sunny, easy 320 miles. We both had a hair cut in Aberdeen. On tour, hair is an issue, since you want to look your best every night on stage. At home of course, we have our regular people we go to and trust. On the road we have to just hold our breath, and walk in wherever, hoping whoever it is can take us right away and we end up looking like ourselves. Today’s experience was full of punchy humor, and left us with upgraded hair. We feel less like the ragged Salmon I described earlier, at the end of their long journey, ready to spawn.
We are down to five concerts left, but 1700 miles of driving. We have five more High School Auditoriums to go.
We’re in another Super 8 tonight, and have three more of them left after this. I wish they had a souvenir tea shirt! We have kept all the room keys, though. We’re going to figure out some silly game to play with them.
After six and a half weeks now, we’re a little bit in the Twilight Zone. We alternate from being really excited to being like Zombies. Our humor is getting sillier and wackier, and we laugh at the stupidest things, now. Towards the end, I promise you that I will write a list of the craziest stupidest things that have happened with no names or places to protect the innocent. Not tonight, though. It’s low lighting and cream-colored walls here at the Super 8, with the décor being a mirror and a coat rack. I think I’ll turn off the light and dream of our own bed just nine days away…
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