Make Something: Quiet

I’m at Chicago’s Auditorium Theater, about to see David Sedaris. Hear David Sedaris. Enjoy David Sedaris.

I feel, about this, like a teenage girl might feel about seeing a heart throb pop singer. At a concert, that teenage girl might jump and sing and cry and scream. I suspect Mr. Sedaris would be most alarmed if I were to behave this way. His security team would probably escort me from this beautiful venue, leaving vacant the sixth row seat my sweet husband procured for me.

I am considering going back out to the lobby to pay $3 so I can check my enthusiasm with the coats. Otherwise, how can I hope to remain composed in the presence of a man who is a writerly hero to me? David Sedaris writes memoir essays laced with truth and sarcasm and humor. He occupies space on bookstore shelves that I covet. I fantasize of being like him. In some ways, at least. Someday.

The show is about to begin. It is too late to go to the coat check. I am going to have to make myself quiet for this evening. I will swell in the moments between his oral essays, and I will applaud and cheer more loudly than the rest. Then I will be quiet again.

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4 responses to “Make Something: Quiet

    • With 4,000 people at the theater, I didn’t even attempt the line to meet him. But I found myself mentally rehearsing what I might say if he crossed my path. Given that I never came up with anything witty or profound, I’m almost relieved the opportunity never arose.

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