Wednesday, August 25, 2010

All Will Be Well -
When The Day is Done

Monday started as a comedy of errors: one thing after another, after another (after another) kept cropping up and going wrong.  Not badly wrong, just annoying-Monday-wrong.  It was as non-stop as the rain that poured down all day.  Finally, the clouds (metaphorical and literal) parted around quittin' time; I left work and dashed to meet my friend bANaNAs, who was in town for a 24-hour surprise visit.

Things started looking up.

We had an awesome dinner uptown, then headed back downtown to catch a late Improv show.  Funny stuff.  Leaving the theater afterwards, we headed towards Seventh Ave to catch the subway.

And that's when I saw him.

Peter Yarrow #1

An older gentleman, wearing a yellow tee shirt and pulling a guitar case behind him, crossed in front of us on Seventh Ave.

It looked an awful lot like...but it couldn't be...because why would HE be walking around Chelsea alone at 11pm on a it's probably not...I must have mistook him for someone know how all old white guys look alike...

Peter Yarrow #2

I pointed the man out to bANaNAs and we started to follow him, trying to get close enough so that I could get a good look, but not so close that the man might fear he was in danger of being mugged.  It was a delicate balance.

I kept whispering, "I think it's him...I think it's him!"  And bANaNAs kept whispering, "So go ask him! Go say 'hi'!"  And I kept whispering, "No, no, I can't, I can't."  This went on for several blocks.

Finally, the man wrapped up the cell phone conversation he'd been having.  And he stopped on the sidewalk in front of me.  And I - screwing up all my courage - stopped too. And I asked,

"Excuse me - are you Peter Yarrow?"

Peter Yarrow #3

And he said, "Why, yes, I am!"

And suddenly the skies rent and lo - there descended from the heavens a thousand angels, radiant and singing; and the air filled with the sweet smells of homemade pies and sassafras; and the pavement upon which we stood turned from concrete to dewy meadow grass; and all around us was a golden light, warm as a grandmother's hug and happy as a sleeping puppy.

That's how it felt to me anyways.

Because I was speaking with one of my heroes - one-third of the iconic folk trio, Peter, Paul and Mary.  And he was kind and gracious, not at all perturbed by the interruption.  He shook our hands, learned our names, and explained he had just come from a rehearsal for a new PBS special.

I told him that I was a big fan, and had actually called in to a PBS telethon about 5 or 6 years ago to speak with him.  (True story! I called to protest rising ticket prices at PP&M concerts, but had gotten so star-struck while speaking to Peter that I forgot all about my indignation and ended up making a pledge to support public television.)

He asked if we were students and I said "Bless you!" while bANaNAs explained we just looked youthful. :)  And then Peter Yarrow said, "You're delicious."


I'm a little hazy about what happened next.  I think I may have blacked out from the excitement of it all.  Alls I know is that PETER YARROW thanked us for being fans, shook our hands, and we went our separate ways.  He - north towards Penn Station.  Us - south towards the halal cart on W. 28th Street, where I purchased a grape soda, as is my tradition when exciting things happen to me.

And meeting a famed folk singer/social activist who has been present for some significant historic moments and is responsible for writing some much-loved songs was a pretty exciting thing.  I'm still smiling about it.

:)  See?

"All will be well when the day is done..."

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Amazing. Pure Magic. Incredible. Happiness. Love the pics and write-up.

Currently drafting plans to stalk NPS who only resides 244 miles from Boston(!!!!) in hopes of my own run-in.