Powell Hall

Saturday was full. Puck had spent the night with the Silverspoon’s.
After spending an hour with her chubby, Collette joined the rest of the family and Grandma for another round of the basketball.
Diana was also present, with half the English family, and had brought “War and Peace”, having been at the gym for a total of three hours before Eleda’s and Linnea’s game had even started.
The game was quite an unfortunate spectacle. Linnea, Eleda, and the other girls were matched up against the nastiest team in the league. Girls were shoved, pushed, Linnea was punched across the face… it wasn’t pretty. And even though it was a loss, Linnea was able to score the first two baskets. They played a clean game, and could be proud of that at least. Unlike their opposition.
Then there was a lull back at the house for mini chocolate chip muffins, bottled juice, truffles, and trips to the library for Carrie and Rose, and the nutrition store for Grandma and Mom.
Followed — a far more refreshing match at Francis’ game, which they won. Francis made a basket almost immediately, and it was a fun game to watch.
It had been a fast weekend. After the game, Collette hurried home (where Gloria was already feeding Puck dinner), to join OLeif for the Symphony.
They arrived in the bitterest cold Collette had felt in a very long time. She ran after OLeif for the entrance, where “POWELL” sparkled in white lights across from the “FOX” — their own slice of Times Square.
It had been so long since Collette had been to the red velvet, glass-chandeliered, 1920’s magnificence of Powell Hall. It was beautiful. She was once again reminded of her and Diana’s regular habit of pretending to be the queens of that concert hall at every visit, when children.
As they presented their tickets at the door, the elderly man said to OLeif, “Oh you made a good catch,” nodding to Collette. And then, turning to Collette, he said, “Well, you caught him too. Good catch for both of you.”
They laughed, making their way to Orchestra Right.
Collette had forgotten how good it was to see a live orchestra perform. The piano concerto was given by a gentleman who appeared very much like Mr. Sing, and he was given three standing ovations.
Collette usually judged the level of magnificence by how many chills it gave her at the climax and/or finish. The crowning came, of course, with the chills of Saint-Saëns’ Organ Symphony. Four standing ovations. A great performance.
And so another evening came to a close, back into the cold and the stars of a St. Louis night.