Let It Be - Revisited

Our eyes locked. Her grin confirmed the shared memory, enhancing the pleasure for me.

"I wasn't crazy about the song before," I said as the last notes played, sure she knew before what. "But I'll always smile when I hear it now."

She laughed. "I guess so. That was one of the funniest things I've ever seen."

Funny? My cheeks ached from smiling through the song but I didn't consider hilarity the key motivation behind my smile.

I replayed the original experience. Several times that night, I had noticed the wiry little guy in the corner, legs hugged tightly under the chin that propped his forlorn expression atop his knees. More impressive than his agility was his apparent ability to shut out the screaming music and hubbub of the crowd around him. He might have been grieving, contemplating the most serious decision in his life, stoned out of his mind, or so utterly comfortable with his own company that nothing else mattered.

As if sneezed into a fresh cosmos, he suddenly landed--arms flailing and feet stomping—in the aisle, where he danced something similar to a jig/clog blend, to a less-than-jiggy rendition of "We Will Rock You". Blown away by this opportunity to experience a transformation before my eyes, I laughed with him, and enjoyed his dance as much as if I had been his partner.

"Seriously," I returned to the present and my daughter. "I will never forget this guy, and I'll smile every time I think of him. Don't you appreciate what he has given you? "

"I guess." Her expression lost a little of the here-goes-my-crazy-mom look. "Remember the first time we met Jeff and Christine? That's the song I'll never be able to hear without losing it." When able to control her laughter, she wiped her eyes and sang Jeff's line. "If you don't blow me right now –"

I did Christine's part with a straight face--"I will never never never-"--and become conscious of the impact the many single moments of pleasure people, often strangers, have given me.

"Don't you hope you've given others moments they will never forget?" I asked. "That people you don't even know smile every time they think of you?"

Her smile faded. "I'm not sure I want to be remembered because I made a fool of myself."

I thought about the time my boot hit a slick spot in the middle of a busy intersection and tossed my legs over my head. Six lanes of stopped traffic and the four co-workers crossing with me watched as I untangled my skirt from around my face and scrambled to my feet before the light changed. I don't begrudge any of the people who still smile when passing that corner.

"What about the Mambo Kings picture?" I asked.

She closed her eyes and shuddered. "Shut up, Mother."

"You know some of those people still tell friends about the crazy girl who flipped through her pictures and drew a crowd when she fell on the floor laughing." I gave her an encouraging nudge.

"Come on. Admit it isn't such a bad thing to make so many people laugh."

She wasn't admitting any such thing.

"How about the time you wouldn't let go of Duncan's leash, and he pulled you between my legs and knocked Bill and me off the porch?" I asked. "It doesn't make you the least bit happy to know your grandmother will always have that memory?"

"Let's go back to other people making us laugh," she suggested. "Remember when Tim asked for a tampon, thinking it was a popsicle? And when the bird perched on Mike's glasses?"

Later, as we held our sides and wiped our eyes, my thoughts returned to the shared memory that had started this laugh fest. "The dancer makes me smile for a different reason. He made me happy."

We decided it didn't matter how we leave good impressions, as long as we give others a reason to smile when they remember us. I might learn to clog, but I think she's looking for something different.