"they're not coming"

Hey Saskatchewan. I have a show announcement.

OCTOBER 15
outdoor concert at Cherry Lake, SK
hosted by Karen & Trevor Herriot
$25, children under 12 free
2 - 4 PM
only 60 tickets available!
appearing with Jeremy Sauer (keys) + Danny Jones (bass)
contact info@belleplainemusic.com for details and tickets

Cherry Lake is a special place for me. Something memorable has occurred every time I’ve visited. Also, Karen and Trevor are very special people. If you’re not familiar, Cherry Lake is near Indian Head. The early time is so you can bring your kids and they can run around outside. It’s also so you can get a good night’s sleep on a Sunday.

Send me an email and I’ll send you details. But there are only 60 tickets, so make it snappy.

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You may have seen a video that I made with the CBC. I’m on a rooftop singing a song I wrote for my neighbours called “Two Packs A Day”. It’s a nice video in a pretty location.

On the day it was planned I got all ready for the shoot. I put on my denim jumpsuit. I curled my hair. I committed to a bold shade of lipstick. It was raining when I left home. It seemed like a rooftop film shoot might not be the best idea for my old guitar. Nonetheless, I drove to the Hotel Saskatchewan for the rendezvous. I looked for my crew. I was on the lookout for CBC types. Or… any types with camera gear and a purposeful gaze.

I saw no types.

But I did see my friend Blair sitting in the bar. They left Regina a few years ago and my heart has had a Blair shaped gap in it ever since. I scooted over and interrupted the conversation going on with her group. A lovely way to pass the time until my crew arrived.

Just a few short minutes later a man approached me. He was friendly and confident and I was relieved that I was in the right place. I’m always afraid that I’ll muck up the details and show up at the wrong place, or on the wrong day, or not at all. The perils of self-management. There is no one to blame.

The conversation was friendly, but confusing. He had an accent and I wondered why French CBC was here. But the accent wasn’t French. He was asking me where he could see live music. He pointed to my guitar case and asked me if I was playing live music. More confusion on my part.

“Are you from the CBC?”
“What’s the CBC?”

And this is how I met Murat. He was on a business trip from Turkey and attending the Farm Progress show. He enjoyed singing too. He showed me a song that he had on Spotify and then said that he had sung today with a band at the Farm Progress show.

“A trio? Two men and a pregnant woman?” I asked.
“Yes!”
“I’m pretty sure you’re talking about a couple friends of mine who played there today.”

Murat’s phone came out again and sure enough he had video of him singing Simon & Garfunkel “Cecilia” with two musicians I’d been rehearsing with for an upcoming festival.

This is about the time when I felt my regular thrum of anxiety escalate to a pulse. Where is CBC? Did I get the wrong day? Why did I delete the email with all the information and contact names and trust that I’d entered it into my calendar correctly? Crap crap crap. Wait. What did he just say? Smile. Nod. Pretend you were listening. Shit. He knows you’re not listening.

“Sorry. I’m distracted. I missed what you said. I’m meeting a film crew here for a shoot. We’re filming on the roof. I’m worried I have the wrong day or something.
”So you are playing!”
”Yes, but just one song.”
”Why just one song?”
”Because that’s all they paid for?”

Laughter.

Then in a deadpan he says,

”They’re not coming.”
”Excuse me?”
”They’re not coming.”
”I assure you that they’re coming.”
”They’re not.”

Awkwardness. Explanations of who CBC is and why they are definitely coming and an escalated feeling of needing to figure out why they’re not here.

“You know what? I need a minute to sort this out."

I stride over to the desk and ask the lady if she knows anything about the CBC. I’m feeling how humid it is from the rain and wondering if I have lipstick smeared on my face and wow, this jumpsuit can get real clammy.

“They’re not here.”
”Are they coming?”
”They’re late.”

The angels sing. They’re late!!! Utter relief. I am here. I am golden. I am waiting calmly and without complaint and they’re just late.

I search out Murat in the lobby to tell him with relish that my film crew is just a bit late. I try not to gloat. I’m unsuccessful.

“Well, if they’re late then we can have a drink while you wait for them.”

This guy is good. I can see why they sent him all the way from Turkey.

---

We sit down at the couches in front of the fireplace and there’s no position where I can keep a subtle eye on the lobby to spot the film crew. Murat offers to tell reception that we’re in the bar. I consider that something might get lost in translation and then set it aside. I order a glass Pinot Blanc, he makes it two and we’re off and away.

We talk about travel and art. We talk about life. Our conversation is broad and joyful. We leave out the difficult, gritty parts that I tend to shuffle about it. It’s fun. I’m relaxing. I can finally make sense of the situation. The CBC is late. I’m having a glass of wine. This man is enthusiastic and kind.

“Can I join you on the roof when you go?”
”Well, I’ll have to ask if that’s alright.”
”But you’re the boss.”
”Not really…”
”You are. Nothing happens if you don’t go. You’re the boss.”

I consider this.

“I don’t mind if you come. We can try, but if someone objects…” I shrug.

My phone rings.

“Hello.”
”Hi Melanie. Where are you?”
”I’m in the bar.” I suddenly feel like I’m Joni Mitchell.

Then I snap out of it and start rambling. “I told the woman at the desk where we were. Well, I didn’t tell her myself, but…” I save the full explanation and cut to the chase.

“Are you here?”
”Yes. We’re waiting on the roof.”

The wine takes the edge off the feeling that I’ve kept anyone waiting. But also, I was here first. Hey! Who’s waiting for who?

It’s all very confusing.

A man is sent down to collect me. He works for the hotel. I make no explanation for Murat, and we get into the elevator and from there we go through an unmarked door and then up a stairwell clearly not meant for guests. Things get institutional. Wire in the window glass. Metal and concrete. White on white on white. And seven foot nutcracker Christmas decorations standing sentinel.

We climb a staircase and are deposited on the roof of the hotel. When I worked at the Globe Theatre someone¹ showed me how to get to the tippity top of the copper dome. It was an exhilarating place, where a only dodgy fence and your sanity kept you from certain death.

This was kinda like that. But higher.

We shot the video. Murat directed it. He was mostly ignored as my director, but on occasion the CBC crew would see that he actually did propose a pretty good idea and would adopt. The view was lovely and it felt like a special privilege to be up there. And also a lesson. Look at Murat living his life! Orchestrating his desires! Cheering me on.

It was magnificent to behold.

We wrapped and Murat and I exchanged information. He showed me a few of the many photos he took and we parted so I could get home to my infant son. I got in my car and drove away with a huge smile plastered on my face.

More than anything, this is what I missed over the last two years. The joy of meeting someone new and riding their wave.

What a privilege it is to just let go.

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1. It was Jeremy Sauer.