Bare Necessities

On Saturday night, we took Charlie to see a student variety show at the college where I teach. I’ve taken Charlie to these shows before. We sit in the back—the auditorium’s not very large so every seat is good—and it’s a very relaxed and homey atmosphere. A lot of my students were in the production and they had given me an idea of some of the program: A couple of songs from Disney movies and Broadway musicals, and some improv acts.

The show was almost an hour and a half, with an intermission, and Charlie sat through it all. We got there just as it was starting. A couple of students were clustered at the back and then the opening lines of “The Circle of Life” from The Lion King rang out. The students (or rather, animals) trooped in, with us behind, and “….to the path unwinding” being sung, with piano accompaniment.

Charlie first sat quietly and was rapt when one student sang a solo and a couple of guys did a song (complete with swords) from The Pirates of Penzance then put his hands over his ears and started stomping and verbalizing. (The microphone volume was too loud at one point and —I almost felt I could feel something vibrating— and I started to put my hands over my ears.) I put a finger to my lips and encouraged Charlie when he was quiet, and rubbed his back, and repeated those steps when the stomping and verbalizing started up.

That was into about 20 minutes of the show after which Charlie sat quietly (with hands on and off his ears) not only through the songs, but also during some of the comedy improv scenes. These are only a few minutes long but with a lot of fast talking and topical humor that’s hard for Charlie to follow. He watched the first few scenes intently as Stitch (as in Leelo and Stitch—-it was a very Disney show) was featured in one short and Iago (as in Aladdin not, as I thought, Hamlet).

At intermission, a couple of students came over to say hi; I’ve known more than a few of them since they were freshmen, and now they’re seniors in their last year of college. I used to bring Charlie to class some days in my first year when he was sick. We reminisced that Charlie’d been just up to my shoulder then, and now here was a tall boy with gangly legs splayed out, his head propped up on his elbows. I mentioned to one student—a Classics minor—about a trip to Greece in the spring; her face brightened, and then she sighed when she found out that it would be at a time when she has to be working.

“I’ve never been there,” I said. I explained that I’d been to Italy and Rome when I was in graduate school. Jim and I got married just after I got my doctorate and then Charlie was born and then—–since then, travel itself has been pretty much a luxury.

“I’ll get there someday,” my student sighed.

“You will,” I said.

Charlie’s favorite moments were when the whole cast stood in a line on the stage and sang and danced in unison, or wove in and out among each other. After the cast had taken their bows and the curtain had closed, one student stuck his head out and called out “super duper!” “Super duper!” Charlie repeated. I agreed; “super duper!” Charlie said again, and smiled.

Oh yes.

One of the final numbers in the second half was “The Bare Necessities” from Jungle Book—-a song I remember singing not only with Charlie while tugging him around the room to dance, but also with my sister. (With the record spinning on our kiddy record player, she’d be Baloo the bear; I was Bagheera the panther). So many worries and strife in life; so much time spent looking around for something I thought I wanted, and it can’t be found With the basics of a very lovely boy and really lovely husband, of love and home and work, and a good school for my boy, I think I’ve got what I need, right here and now.