That's Life: Youth Blooms as Summer Fades
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WILLIAMSTOWN, Mass.
Cars were parked bumper to bumper on Spring Street, and the sidewalks were bustling with tourists, college students and local folk.It was Saturday of Columbus Day weekend, a fact I had overlooked as no weekend visitors had made their way to my door with the intention of roaming the Berkshires to view the fall foliage. Too, I was sleep deprived, having only slumbered four hours Friday night and never shutting my eyes the previous night.
Yet Saturday morning, though my mind and body were not in condition to venture into the world, my spirit was buoyant and rebelled against the constraints my mind and body were trying to impose on me. I was like a child throwing a tantrum because her mother had said, "You can't go out to play until you clean up your room."
So, I ignored the unfolded clean laundry sprawled on the bed in the guest room and the breakfast dishes in the sink, powdered my face and left my housework behind. "It will wait for me," I said to myself as I walked out the front door.
A few minutes later, I parked my car in the lot on Spring Street and strolled here and there for about an hour, admiring how Mother Nature had clothed the trees in their fall finery, scarlet, golden and pumpkin-orange leaves clinging to branches. And how appropriate that bushes aflame with crimson leaves should be called "burning bushes."
The first year after I earned a driver's license, I complained to my husband that I missed being able to gaze at the trees as I had when sitting next to him while he drove.
Columbus Day weekend, I stopped at Tunnel City Coffee, where college students were easy to spot. Most of them were reading books, using laptop computers and wearing telltale sweat shirts or T-shirts. One was sitting cross-legged, feet bare, as she multitasked, reading a book, texting, and sipping coffee from a jumbo cup. On the table, there was a copy of Jane Austen's "Mansfield Park" and a third book, open with a pen tucked in it.
Students studying, reading, doing research via computers were silent, but quiet the coffeehouse was not. Groups of tourists chattered; a couple examining a map disagreed about what route they should take to the next place they wanted to explore; some college students greeted each other enthusiastically, as though they were long-lost friends.
A young man and woman, sitting face to face at a table, were oblivious of what was happening around them. They were wearing headphones and holding hands. "How sweet," I thought.
When she rested her head on the table, he nudged her as if to awaken her. When she did not respond, he looked at her questioningly. Finally, she sat up and he smiled at her.
When I noticed a dozen objects were lined up at the table, including tiny figures, plastic trees and houses, pens and pieces of chalk, I realized the couple was experiencing "Etiquette."
A press release I had received a couple weeks earlier had announced that the '62 Center for Theatre and Dance was offering an opportunity to engage in "Etiquette" by Rotozaza at Tunnel City Coffee from Oct. 5 to l0 from noon to 6.
"Etiquette explores the gap between language and meaning and is "performed" between two people who are given instructions through the headphones and use the items on the table. It has been described as a kind of "magic" that allows the performers — ordinary people — to relinquish control and responsibility.
At Tunnel City Coffee, I read what people who had engaged in "Etiquette" there had written in a notebook, left on a stand for that purpose.
"Wish it were longer. I loved it," one had written. "I'm usually a shy person but I was able to forget myself and really enjoy myself." Another person penned, "This was fabulous. I wish I could do a new one every week."
One woman, however, would have liked to be able to hear more clearly the voice emanating from the headphones.
I sat at a table nearby the couple performing, wanting to observe them without being intrusive. When they removed the headphones, I approached them and asked if they would mind telling me what the experience had been like. The young man introduced himself as Pat Rhine, and the young lady was Madeline Nyhagen, friends who are seniors at Williams College.
"We read about 'Etiquette' in an e-mail," she said, adding that she imagined it would be better to do it with a stranger than a friend as you are used to interacting with a friend. "It is tempting to laugh."
When I said she had seemed tired, resting her head on the table, she said she was reacting to what the voice on the headphone had said.
The students said they would tell their friends that "Etiquette" had been fun.
When our conversation came to an end, I blurted, "You are a pretty girl," and then turning to the young man, I told him, "And you are handsome." I thought of how fortunate this pair seemed to be: young and good looking, students at a fine school with friends surrounding them, and a future full of promise waiting to be lived.
"Have fun!" I said, before walking away.
Ah youth, isn't it a shame that many of us do not appreciate what we have until it is gone. But when youth has faded, we can stay young in heart.
