Yes, the “Golden Era” Slipped into the Sunset of Memory at Least a Year Ago

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

In the end, the concert had been unusually subtle. In short, it was empty. There was no other word for it. It was not to say that the concert was poor or even quite flat. It was decent and quite funny, but the golden era was ended, and it was quite obvious that night. There was much choreography and the Mr. Sandman and Old MacDonald ensembles were humorous.

Molly had joined them but began to feel ill and OLeif and Collette dropped her off at about ten, afterwards, and then OLeif went on to a barbecued wings joint with some of the family while the other thirty or so choir kids flooded Steak ‘n Shake where their only cook was Ex Nihilo. And so, that was that.

Relevance and Kitts had returned, with Kitts’ hair completely cut off at the ears. Collette presumed she was turning into Mrs. South rather early. There were several old faces to cut the clutter of the new: the Cast-Iron sisters, Paige Popp, Unn, the Deep-Minded, and Justus of Orange, Ex Nihilo, Lorenzo-Gwanael and his wife, Peridots Chicolinni and her boyfriend (or perhaps they were engaged, or married) with the shadow mustache (the older brother of Florence-Michelle Monticello), Jessica Bench (who had graduated six years before with George the Red, Idlewild, and the tall, tall Donald), Beads Argonaut, Dr. E., Eutychus Ski (who had somehow managed to bring a miniature kitten with him into the church), Old Blue and Cashmere, Spurgeon and his fiance, and various others.

Eve was graduated up front, along with Opi Northcutt, Orianne-Rosette Solomon, Sumpter March, Portia Vandalabene, Titus Friendly (of course, who presented Mrs. South with a great bunch of what Collette thought were yellow roses), Marcelette Igloo, and Faustine-Coy Chicolinni, Aristotle George, and Yaotl West. It was a small graduating class that year. Next year’s promised to be larger. Collette also spoke briefly with Adam-Age afterwards. He was growing so fast. Twelve already, thirteen in September. He had always been her little buddy and now he had quite surpassed her in height.

“In a musty old hall in Detroit they prayed
In the Maritime Sailors’ Cathedral
The church bell chimed, ’til it rang 29 times
For each man on the Edmund Fitzgerald.

“The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down
Of the big lake they call Gitche Gumee
Superior, they say, never gives up her dead
When the gales of November come early.