With a heightened level of confidence, an immense amount of enthusiasm and my new European style haircut, I kissed my family goodbye again and jumped on a Northwestern flight destined for Albuquerque. From the foot of the French Alps to the mountains of the American Southwest, I was, yet again, dazzled by the beauty in this world.
Upon my arrival in Santa Fe, I noticed a unique sweet smell in the air. Somehow, I knew then that the Summer of 2000 was going to be special. It was just a feeling.
The Opera was made up of an uncommon cast of characters from the performers to the crew to those serving the food at the lavish show-opening galas. Everyone had a story, something equally uncommon that brought us all to this place. Everyone was carving out their own way in the world. These people were not "sheep" as they say. They were baring it all to find their way, pushing their limits in front of each other, their mentors, their critics. It was a perfect home for me, the next challenge to force myself further from inhibition.
This many years later, it's a tad blurry recalling exactly when Jerry and I shook each other's hands probably because we had a third player involved, Jamie, who was slightly more chatty than Jerry. Initially anyway. Jamie and Jerry were roommates. I was stuck with a bunch of girly girls, one who's license plate read "SEWHAT", which when we asked her exactly what that meant, she giggled and said..."It could mean Sew Hat or Sew What!" We still laugh about that.
Jamie, Jerry and I were The Three Muskateers of the Sante Fe Opera House that summer and we didn't even know it yet. Tous pour un, un pour tous!
Keep it coming, Honey......
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