This Month's Story

The Kennedy Center in Washington DC is a wondrous place. I first went there when its grand opening was Bernstein’s “Mass” and since then have seen many different events that were a delight to behold.

Its versatility is its especial charm. There are several theaters inside that allow a variety of shows; you can park inside on the lower levels to escape any foul weather and you can relax after any performance in a pleasant coffee bar/ small restaurant on the top floor that lets you view all of Washington from a small balcony.

But its special charm is its box seats in the concert theater. These are arranged so that every two boxes had an anteroom behind the two boxes. Several friends and I used a special trick to take advantage of this two box/one anteroom advantage. We would buy three seats in each of two adjacent boxes. That meant there would always be an empty seat in each box (no one would buy the single remaining seat in each box. For a concert at the center, the people using the box seats always were a couple. Thus if all that was left was a single seat, it never sold). So for the price of three couples we had seats for four couples and best of all, the anteroom behind the two boxes were ours for our own private use! And use it we did!

Whenever we left our parked cars in the parking area below, we always carried our coats upstairs no matter what the weather. When we were alone in the anteroom, we would pull from the coat’s sleeves and the coat’s large pockets a bottle or two of a good wine and glasses as well as an arrangement of hors d’oeuvers. Someone would produce a small tablecloth and voila! we would have a small luncheon at intermission as well as a glass of wine to drink while we watched whatever production we were there to see.

Now, all of this is the lead for one particular occasion that happened while we were playing our little game. It happened at intermission (all of this happened sometime back and I don’t remember what we were there to see or hear). There was a knock at the anteroom door. I opened it and our particular section usher stood there. He knew what we were doing, but since we never made a noisy fuss and cleaned up when we left, he had never said a word about our little picnics.

“There is a young lady that wishes to see you.”

Surprised, I looked behind him. It was my daughter Cathy.

“I saw you going up the stairs and into this room and followed you.”

I grabbed her, hugged her and pulled her into the anteroom. Someone offered the usher a glass of wine. To my surprise, he took it. Meanwhile, Cathy looked around the room in amazement and then ran out into one of the two boxes. She looked down and seeing her husband Sonny patiently sitting in their seats far below, waved at him.

The usher put his glass on the table and turned to go.

“I have to be back to stand by the steps. Tell your daughter that the next box on your left is the Presidents Box. I’ll leave that door unlocked so she can look in; she’ll be surprised. Tell her to lock the door when she leaves. Don’t forget or I’ll get in trouble!”

Well, Cathy chomped on the lunch we had laid out and then hurried to look in the Presidents Box. We looked to see her from the box nearest hers and she was having a grand time. It was indeed a little different than ours and she enjoyed the regality of it. She could see Sonny in the seats below and when he looked up and saw her, she waved grandly.

Then the performance started and she remained in the box, sipping regally from a glass of wine one of us brought over to her. When the performance was over, she hurriedly thanked us and raced downstairs to locate Sonny and apologize.

This was a long time ago and Cathy is a parent now with grown children of her own. I wonder if she has ever told them about the few moments in time when she stood in for the President of the United States.

I’ll call her this weekend and ask her.