The Effect of Music and Memories

I'm not really sure what to say about this vlog other than it is the first time Mark has appeared with me on camera for such a soul-exposing experience, and that is a bigger deal than you know.

My soul mate is a pretty private guy, but I detected an opportunity to receive an affirmative answer to a vlog invitation during the intermission of Godspell on Saturday night at our college. Buoyed by the satisfying feeling of a delicious meal and the renewing effect of musical memories, Mark softened into a answer that wasn't "no."

When we we got home, I simply got the computer and he began to set the shot. Note that he chose for us to share a chair. What a clever man. Is he pleased with the framing? No, but we were operating with the understanding that we were living a carpe diem moment, and it was time to capture memories, not create flawless video. (Take note, video students. Maybe you can try that excuse sometime when your composition is questionable. I don't think it will work, but you can try.)

Those of you who've known us since our courtship or newlywed years probably still hold memories of a quiet Mark. Certainly I did far more talking in the early years of our relationship than he did. Yet, one of the fascinating aspects of who we are as a couple is that conversation is always easy regardless of who is manufacturing and distributing the words. Those who don't know us well likely believe that I'm the one who does the majority of talking. Au contraire. Mark does a great deal of the communicating. He simply is more efficient with words and able to convey more with less. Do I talk more? Yes. Does Mark communicate more? Yes.

Since you may be more attuned to joyisms than markable moments, allow me to offer you hints of what to look for:
• His eye contact as I talk.
• His instant smile when I put my arm around his shoulder.
• His sense of fun and playfulness.
• His ability to mention a touchy topic without the need to explore further. (Theological discussion anyone?)
• His willingness to be vulnerable. (You just gotta love a man who admits to getting teary and nostalgic.)
• His ability to patiently listen at times when he senses my need for "me to be me."
• His capacity to simply let me be me.

Which leads me to this: I cannot hold back from pointing out my capacity to remember a date v. Mark's. To Mark, a date on a calendar doesn't matter as much as a memory and what that memory represents. For me, I need the fact verified before life can proceed and be credited as valid. But I'm glad I wasn't hung up on it Saturday night. As Mark began to reflect on his own musical experience, I knew he wasn't correct about the year he appeared in Godspell at the Waterloo Community Playhouse. I also knew it didn't matter. What mattered was that he was sharing what it had meant to him then and now.
He, like me, is fascinated by the fact that we appeared in the same musical prior to knowing each other. And that it was this musical that lead to our eventual meeting and courtship. The music director for Mark's production owned the restaurant where we met as singing waiters. Meeting this man-Larry Kussatz-led to Mark's eventual invitation to become a singing waiter. Therefore, had Mark not earned a role in the December 1982 production of Godspell, our paths might have never crossed.

And so - there we sat Saturday night - sitting side-by-side while singing along with every song as we privately heard them playing to different pit bands for the same show.

Mark is so fun to talk to and to share life with. I'm glad I captured such a moment and locked it in time. Also, a shout out to the cast of North High School's 1981 production. What a fantastic experience. Thanks for wonder-filled memories.
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