67 : Puck Meets Puck
I’m not the biggest Shakespeare fan in the world. I always figured it took about 200% more words than necessary to finally get the point across. But I guess that’s kind of the idea. Besides, it’s been a tradition for about the past seventeen years now to visit Forest Park in June for “Shakespeare in the Park”. So we did.
Mom, Puck, Yali, and I left way early as usual, to grab front row seats blanket-style, after dropping off at Trader Joe’s on the way for plenty of sustenance.
After staking our claim up front, stage right, for the performance about four hours early, we left the blankets to bake in the sun while we walked across the street to the Art Museum.
While I took a phone call at the entrance, Mom took the boys to the welcome desk for maps. When I joined them, I heard Puck – pushing Yali in the stroller – in the middle of a conversation with the receptionist. She had just offered him a kids scavenger hunt brochure.
“Actually, I think I’ll take one of these instead,” he pointed to the stack of museum maps. “It’s just a bit more practical.”
After Oxbear swung by to pick up Yali – he’s not a big fan of late nights and Shakespearean talk either – we returned to our seats. Well, Puck did, with aid of a shady umbrella. I camped out under a tree with Mom for another hour or so.
And because it’s such a big-small-town, it didn’t surprise me too much when I noticed two guys I graduated high school with set up their own blanket section next to our group.
Eventually the rest of the crowd rolled in, also including Elmer and Jaya, Rose, and Francis. Puck reserved the best seat he could prepare for his Uncle Francis, pushing extra snacks his way to make him comfortable for the 150-minute performance. Then he lounged next to me, yards from the opening act, ready to work on a long snooze once the play commenced.
Turns out, he never felt like sleeping. Under the bright planets of a warm June evening, Puck was laughing so hard with the rest of the audience that the drowsy feeling he’d been hoping for, never arrived. Turns out Shakespeare wasn’t as boring to him after all. And with the singing and guitars, accordion, violins, and even twin Pucks, there was plenty to keep him entertained from start to finish. He even turned out to be a heckler by the end, calling out his own various comments before I could clap a hand over his mouth:
“That’s just cold!”
“That’s just cruel!”
But I don’t think anyone outside our blankets heard. Everyone was too busy laughing.