Even Though He

I remember Dad and I started going to the Roxy Theatre every Sunday after our family had moved “uptown,” from 50th Street to our new home on 58th Street.

Possibly that happened because we no longer had to visit my Grandmother who was recently deceased, or maybe because Dad had no friends he enjoyed meeting in the new neighborhood.

However, attendance at the Roxy every Sunday after Mass became our new routine. My younger sister, while invited, never joined us nor did my Mother.

Dad and I went early primarily because the admission changed at noon, but also, I believe, in order to return home in time for the 3 o’clock dinner still enjoyed with the surviving members of Mom’s family. Shortly after our move, my uncles, aunt and Grandfather relocated and soon became our upstairs neighbors.

The Roxy in those years was a mecca of beauty especially from a child’s viewpoint. The ushers were all handsome, 6 ft tall and wore red and gold uniforms. I always believed I left the dingy streets of my beloved city and traveled each Sunday to an enticing wonderland. Sundays became magic moments in time that I have never totally forgotten.

I have no recollection of any films that induced tears or provoked slivers of fear. Mostly I remember beautiful blonde heroines who magically sang and danced in tandem with talented friends. Their male friends could mostly be described with a cliche, “tall, dark and handsome.” I might also add, the hero's were equally adept in both song and dance.

However, I never remember a Sunday when Dad would say we would miss a performance because it was “inappropriate.”

Now, of course, I understand the many films provided sheer fantasy. In the decades that followed, none of my multitude of amazing friends or acquaintances, sang or danced or ever invited me to join them. It never happened, but pretending it might did make a lonely little girl quite happy for a very long time.

Perhaps that’s what I’m trying to do now as the thirteen months of lockdown seem to drag on endlessly. Perhaps while I am not looking to join a chorus line, or turn my faded locks bright yellow, I am eagerly grasping for fantasy.

In my dreams Will will return once again for Sunday visits and we will host an open house to celebrate.

Possibly my posse will join me for a shopping expedition at Todd and Andrew’s and we will share a festive lunch afterwards. In my dreams we even order a celebratory carafe of white wine.

Who knows, perhaps we might decide to attend an open air concert.

And maybe, just maybe at least one of my dreams will come true.

After all, even though he didn’t sing or dance, I did meet my tall, dark and handsome hero.