Guardian angels

Rained last night, first time in a long while. Didn’t seem like much though. The trees need watering. Course, a lot things need stuff, and they aren’t getting it.


As I came up to the condiment table to put half-and-half in my coffee, I was looking into the backroom and saw the usual guys there–fifty-ish, kind urban tough looking. The sort of people that would jump to your aid if there was trouble. I thought kind of like Secret Service, kind of like surveillance, kind of like guardian angels.
Last weekend D. and I went to see the james Sewall Ballet on Friday night and the Saint Paul Chamber Orchestra on Saturday night. World-class ballet and chamber music.
Struck me while watching both that they are doing things which I have no idea–are these brilliant or just schlock? I have no way to judge.
The things that I notice are obvious, like the little jokes thrown into the choreography–dancers coming down the aisles from the back of the theater to the stage, then some of them kneeling down to form a human staircase so that the others can get up on the stage. (Of course they go for the laugh of the last person needing help, and those already up ignoring him.)
Or how James comes out at the beginning, in front of the curtain, holding a mike, and talks to the audience. The curtain is pulled back, and he casually takes off his jacket adn throws it in the wings.
May, the sister-inlaw costumer for the Sewalls–who got us the tickets–said she fought with him over that, tried to talk him out of it. She’s the expert in costumes, he in choreograghy. And so even at that level there isn’t agreement.