The Audience

I woke to an email from Ulf Fagelhammer this morning. He is the curator of 591 Photography. He was informing me that my part of the Summer Exhibition is featured today. Here is the link. This is quite a privilege for me and an honor. I'd like to thank both Ulf and Rhonda Prince for asking me to participate in the exhibit. If you haven't, look around at the rest of the photographs. 591 is very productive and a great source for new photography. You're bound to find something you like.

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"My mother wants to have you over for dinner. She wants to meet you."

These words sent a shiver through me. I was in new territory here. The last time someone's parents wanted to meet me, I was in the eighth grade. And that hadn't gone so well.

"OK," I said resignedly. "When?"

"Sunday. I don't have to work."

So when Sunday came around, I had no choice but to prepare myself for the visit. From what I'd heard about her mother, I was sure she wouldn't like me. I looked in the mirror. I hadn't cut my hair since high school and since my operation, I had quit shaving, too. "Is this the boy you want dating your daughter?" I asked myself. Of course, I thought I was a swell guy, but the image in the mirror maligned that idea. "I'm a sweet boy," I thought, not for the first time. But the fellow in the mirror wasn't close to being a mother's dream.

Sherri had told me about her father's death and how devastated her mother had been. Now she was left to raise the youngest of her children alone. Sort of. Sherri was still living at home and had become quite a surrogate, helping her mother in every way she could. She, of course, enjoyed it. She was incredible in that way. It was organic, I thought. It was just the way she was built.

I found the house at the blind end of a street just before the turnabout. It was not a spectacular home, but it was much better than the one in which I'd grown up. It was big but practical in a new neighborhood that had been developed to serve white collar families whose men wore suits to work and drove new cars. My jeans and flannel shirt and new work boots were not the right sartorial choice for dinner, but I didn't have anything that was. Resigned, I walk up the swooping sidewalk to the front door. Sherri opened it before I rang the bell.

"Come in," she grinned, taking me by the hand and leading me inside. And there they all were, lined up and waiting behind her to greet me. "This is Anders, and this is Lars," she said indicating the two boys. I shook hands with Anders who was the elder, then with Lars. Twelve and ten. Sherri had already informed me. They were regular looking kids who stood straight and tall, Anders dark, Lars fair, and I could see the surprise register on their faces when I came in. I could tell that I was something new.

"And this is my mother."

Mom was grinning, too. I noticed that they all had the same teeth. Anders and Lars were both in braces, but the teeth were large. They all had big, white teeth which really became noticeable when they were collected this way. I began to think of them as The Chompers. It helped put me at ease somehow.

"Please come sit," her mother commanded, motioning me into the living room. "May I get you something to drink?"

Anders and Lars followed me in and sat down. They barely took their eyes off me. And there we were, all seated in the living room, all eyes turned to me. I grinned stupidly feeling like a lodge moose head mounted stupidly for display, my face, my lips, even my ears involuntarily mimicking the look.

"So you're attending the university?" Sherri's mother asked.

"Yes I am," I answered woodenly as if I were being interviewed by a five o'clock news reporter.

"What is your major?" she continued.

"Zoology."

"Oh, really," she said as if she'd never met anyone who had thought of doing such a thing. It sounded good to me, though, smart, official. Yes, I was majoring in Zoology. I would be a Zoologist. It sounded good. I was on the right track there, I thought. Who could quarrel with that.

Then Anders and Lars began to pepper me with questions, quizzing me about animals and their habits, and Sherri's mother excused herself to tend to dinner saying it would only be a moment. And with her out of the room, I began to relax. It was easy with kids. I told them things that made them laugh, and soon the tension of the moment fell away and we all began to laugh. These were good kids, I thought, and her mother was nice, too. And I could tell that Sherri was happy. "I'm going to go help my mother," she said, and I said, "O.K." The boys wanted to show me some of their things.

This is alright, I thought. Everything could be fine.