Fun, companionship and the perilous edge of danger
My wife loves to suggest it is somehow my fault that we frequently find ourselves in weird situations. She claims I harbor some sort of “bizarre, risk-taking gene” that leads me to the edge of peril, and I drag her along simply for fun and companionship.
She is right, you know — at least about the fun and companionship. The “edge of peril” part is a flagrant over-exaggeration, however. To Kristin, “the edge of peril” is parking the car next to the shopping cart corral. I don’t seek danger (usually), but I do like to try things that scare me a little. That’s the biggest reason I said yes to our latest adventure.
Every five years our whole town gets all worked up about the big “all class” high school reunion that brings alumni in from all over the globe for two or three days of glorious rehashing. There are activities planned throughout the weekend: historical displays, bands downtown, tours of the high school, a 5k run, cornhole and pickleball tournaments — all the things.
One of those things was a skit set to take place in the high school gymnasium along with a concert by the Alumni Choir. My sister-in-law Suzi called to ask if Kristin and I would be willing to take on roles in the production. Partly because I’d do anything for family, but mostly because the idea of making a fool out of myself in front of a whole mess of people scared the bejeebers out of me, I said yes. Later, I told my wife (and now co-star) about it.
To say Kristin was less than enthusiastic about the gig would be a mild understatement. For weeks I listened to her grumble and groan about “this ridiculous commitment” I had gotten us into. I was once again dragging her to the edge of peril!
She started to thaw when we heard several other couples had been recruited for roles as well. Next, we learned the script was being written by a favorite friend — a truly hilarious guy who actually knows how to do this kind of stuff. Things were looking up. We headed to the first practice with a fair mix of fear and excitement.
The room was filled with enthusiasm and laughter as we read through a script none of us had seen before. The play was great, and we “actors” all seemed to be falling into the groove. Then we turned to page 10, where we found the notation [roll dance party tape]. The room fell silent. Kristin sent an unseen elbow into my ribs.
Once I had gathered enough oxygen from the tiny amount left in the room, I shakily formed words over a dry tongue to speak.
“I, um, I was not aware of a dancing component to this production,” I said. “I’ll need to reconsider my contract.”
“Oh, it’ll be fun,” quipped the director. “Once the music starts, you can all start to pull people out of the crowd and onto the floor. It’ll become a full-blown dance party!”
Kristin leaned over to whisper in my ear.
“Hear that?” she hissed. “A full-blown dance party, John! You’ve finally done it to yourself!”
(Will John and Kristin get down and boogie-woogie in front of a crowd of hundreds? Will 37 blissful years of marriage fall to pieces on the floor of the high school gymnasium? Be sure to return next week for the exciting conclusion!)
Kristin and John Lorson would love to hear from you. Write Drawing Laughter, P.O. Box 170, Fredericksburg, OH 44627, or email John at jlorson@alonovus.com.
