Forty-second posting - Ginny

This weekend I traveled home to visit my parents, a trip that includes at least 4 flights. Next to me on one of those legs was a woman with a story.

Early 20s, red hair and freckles. Thick Texas accent. Married. Had with her a small purse and cell phone. She fiddled with the cell phone a hundred times. Fiddling included opening the phone, wiping off the fingerprints on her screen, scrolling through something-or-other, closing the phone, repeating 99 times -- clearly waiting for a precise time to call someone. That "someone" she called a few minutes before takeoff. The conversation went as follows:

Hi babe. Yeah I'm on the plane.
No, some guy.
Quiet. Reading.
How was rehearsal?
Awesome. Whadyallplay?
I knew it'd be better with more singers. I told you it'd be better. Told you you'd sound awesome. Didn't I say that?
That's awesome. How longdyallplay?
No way. Awesome, babe. That's like when you sang Gonna Take and Run With Him. Member? And ya'll sang like twenty times and that woman told me to hush cuz I was singin so loud in the back that y'all heard me.
Dyallsing Let The Spirit Lift Me Up High High High?
(She sings a few twangy lines into the phone.)
Whaddabout Come On Show Me The Way Home Right Now?
(More singing.)
Awesome. I love that. I do.
(She sings again and gets choked up.)
How was Ginny?
(At this point there was a clear change in her voice.)
No.Yeah.
(pause)
Yeah.
Uh-huh.
(pause)
Yeah.
(pause)
Backup?
Oh.
(pause)
Gotta go. They're sayin something. Yeah, she'll be at the airport.
Ok. Love ya. Bye.
(click)

At the end, I wish I hadn't heard about Ginny. I had already put my neighbor neatly into her little stereotyped compartment. Her story made that compartment less clear - and a more real. I feel like I should leave you with some sort of lesson here. But in lieu of one, though... have a good week. NATHAN