Be Free

January 5, 2010 - New York City

Old Times, New Times

She asked me why I was going to see a stage performance of the musical “Hair” for the fourth time. We decided to meet for drinks at a lovely restaurant located on the East Balcony of Grand Central Station. Called Metrazul. It was quite nice. The waitress was extremely discrete and did not pester us with attention or try to upsell us to appetizers or a meal. Or even another drink. She left us the hell alone. An enchanting quality in a waitress. (I tipped her generously.)

And so my friend and I were free to talk quietly. I’d last seen her about 30 years ago. And, as with some other relationships with women back then, it did not end well. I was, shall we say, a jerk. And so it was about making amends, but doing so not through a formal announcement but rather an amiable chat, a reconnect, a catching up. And so it was.

She has a lovely British accent although she is not from England but one of the commonwealth countries. There she sat, well into her 70s, but with the clear, piercing blue eyes that I’d remembered so well. Intense, the kind that burn through your skull and touch something inside. And despite her years (and mine!) she still has a playful, flirtatious quality. But sophisticated, not at all smutty.

This story is not going anywhere down a romantic path so you can just stop what you’re thinking. She’s been married for nearly 30 years. And I’m not looking to complicate my life.

But she and I had way of connecting that was special. One of those eyeball-to-eyeball things. And I was surprised and delighted to discover that it was still there. I nearly took her hand at one point but squelched the thought. There was definitely something there, though.

And so she asked, “Why are you going to see ‘Hair’ for a fourth time?”

I didn’t really have an answer, as I had no answer to her question about my fascination with Germany. I originally saw “Hair” in Seattle, even jumped up on the stage afterward and danced with the cast members, as the audience was invited to do. And I saw it in Frankfurt and London. Oh! And I saw the movie, too. So tonight was actually the fifth time I’d seen it.

But that doesn’t answer the question, does it? The show was as funny and lively and raucous and sexy and fun as I’d remembered. I kept reminding myself that these very attractive and talented performers had no personal experience of the times they were depicting: the Vietnam War, the Civil Rights Movement, the Sexual Revolution. That all happened about 20 years before they were born!

So what’s my fascination with "Hair"? Since she had just asked me, it was on my mind. As soon as I walked into the Al Hirschfeld theatre, I drank in everything. The seats, the ceiling, the set, the costumes, the choreography. Looking for the answer to her question.

The answer was in the text! I heard it near the end of the first act:

”Be free!”

It spoke to my heart, to my spirit. Back in Seattle in 1970 and in New York City in 2010.

Be free.

Now there are certainly some wrong ways to go about that. And believe me I’ve done them. But now to me, a born-again Christian trying to live a life pleasing to Jesus, and nearer to 70 years old than I’ve ever been before, “Be Free” has a different meaning. It’s about looking beyond the front yard, beyond the obvious, letting yourself climb over the fence of the mind and see and feel and taste things anew, even if you’ve seen and felt and tasted them before.

And so I prepare to move back to New York City. There! I’ve said it. I’m gonna do it. I made a deal today to sublet a place for 6 weeks starting January 15th, just 9 days from now. I’ve got the money, the desire and the freedom to do it. So I’m flying back home to Nashville on Friday and I’ll pack up my Mazda pick-up, load my doggie Bekka in with me, and head back up here. I’ve already started inquiries at the networks (CNN and Fox News). I would love to work on the international desk.

My impending return to New York City is like reaching out and taking the hand of someone I once loved and somehow drifted away from.

My friend and landlord Jan Esterline in Nashville said, "I'm not too surprised. You're certainly more a New Yorker than you are a Nashvillian."

WHADDAYA MEAN BY THAT?

Copyright 2010 James C. Lewis