Detailing journeys on the Camino de Santiago and the Via Francigena. This blog is about learning how to walk far enough to find one's self while still laughing.
I have a friend who I have written about before, a beautiful, strong Frenchwoman. We walked together for hours, days, weeks on our way to Santiago to meet Saint James. A year later, while visiting her in her home town of Besançon, I asked her where to go in Paris where I would soon be heading. Genevieve spoke softly with far off eyes, weaving through English in a way that a native English speaker wouldn't think to. "I had a moment," she said and went on to describe a space of precious time forever frozen in her memory, a moment of soft fluttering snow, a deep dusk sky and warm street lights flickering on as she exited the train station. She had a moment; a temporary awareness of being immersed in the joy of living.
I have had moments; a grappa toast with an old man, a meal and a bottle of Lambrusco under a fat moon, a chord resolving and echoing through an old church, a piano lesson by the glow of a Christmas tree, counting stars the night before reaching Santiago, hot chocolate with orphans at 13,000 feet, the pop of a bottle of champagne and a thousand fireworks as a new year began, the smell of sage and lavender, and the taste of sweet lemons next to the sea.
Mary Ann and Dianne had a moment. Dianne's eyes shone and a mischievous, wistful smile touched her mouth in the telling. "It was Mary Ann's birthday.." Diane began. As the story goes, forty years before, Mary Ann had interviewed and hired Dianne, thus setting in motion a lifetime of friendship, love, and a fair amount of misbehavior. Long lunches were common at the time and as they were celebrating Mary Ann's birthday, a group of work friends toasted her more than once around a table in Chicago's Greektown. The last two to leave, Dianne and Mary Ann teetered their way happily and warmly drunk back towards the office. As inebriated people are often plagued by clumsiness, Mary Ann's heel caught and she tripped taking Dianne down with her. The two beautiful drunk women looked around them at the contents of their purses scattered haphazardly in the street, and as their eyes met, the laughter began.
Hours later, when Mary Ann's date showed up to take her out for her birthday, he shook his head.. "I saw the strangest thing today...these women were just laying in the street laughing!"
It was through Dianne that Mary Ann met her husband and when asked if bothered, a no nonsense Dianne snort laughed. "Mary Ann had the patience that Brian needed," she responded with a knowing smile. Years later when Brian got sick and passed on, Mary Ann valiantly fought her battle with grief. As she began to heal, her smile becoming more frequent, our choir began it’s preparations for our trip to Spain. Music was picked, organized, rehearsals scheduled and orchestrated, walking shoes and Spanish dictionaries were bought and amidst the collective anticipation, Mary Ann had quietly removed her wedding ring.
A week before we were fly off on our Spanish adventure, our beloved alto Mary Ann went in for routine surgery. Unexpectedly, and some would say unfairly, we lost Mary Ann that day, 8 months after she lost her Brian. We cannot change fate or the will of God, but in these moments, we surely know how to question it.
Her friend Dianne, while not a singer, (so she claims,) decided to come with us to Spain though with a heavy heart. We are so grateful that she joined us. At the Madrid airport, we looked down at our luggage tags sporting large “MAD”s not just signifying Madrid but also Mary Ann Doyle. As we lifted our baggage, we carried her smile with us into Spain.
We had a moment... a late night in Zaragoza. After a full day touring multiple churches, singing a powerfully emotional concert in Carlos’ home town and stuffing ourselves silly, most of the choir and it’s friends had dragged their exhausted bodies up to their beds. However, as was often the case, a small group of us gathered restlessly in the hotel lobby, waiting to head off into the Spanish night for drinks and laughter. Patrick, our tireless leader in music and often times rascality, Carlos, our brilliant and brave man of the hour, Murnie and her husband, our irreverent suburban friends, Susan, our creative smiling adventurer and myself wandered out into a chilly misty night. We found a small bar with modern features just on the edge of the city square, Pilar visible from our warm seats. We toasted our night, our trip, our performances, Carlos, our friends, our God, and we toasted Mary Ann. “Would she have come out with us,” I asked. Perhaps she would have said, “I’m gonna call it a night, I have to sing in the morning!” while shaking her head at us or perhaps she is with us right now, raising her own glass.
Upon the announcement of “last call,” we rose and walked on happily unsteady feet into an empty town square. Looking down, we discovered tiny brass seashells, marking the way to Saint James. Patrick leaned wobbily down, running his fingers over the cool scallop shell as Saint James loaned a shoulder to keep Patrick on his feet.
Susan and I walked slightly behind the others and while they chattered on ahead, I explained with slurred speech, that we were having a moment. We were living! I was thrilled and proud of my late night drunken moment of self awareness. I raised my camera and as I have so many times in the past, I took a picture with my heart. (.. my very wine fuddled heart..)
As we walked in our concert black, the mist clinging to our eyelashes, the quiet square paved in reflections of the surrounding churches, we teased, we joked, we laughed and Mary Ann’s voice echoed with ours, sharing in and strengthening our moment. Oh yes, we had a moment…
It was through Dianne that Mary Ann met her husband and when asked if bothered, a no nonsense Dianne snort laughed. "Mary Ann had the patience that Brian needed," she responded with a knowing smile. Years later when Brian got sick and passed on, Mary Ann valiantly fought her battle with grief. As she began to heal, her smile becoming more frequent, our choir began it’s preparations for our trip to Spain. Music was picked, organized, rehearsals scheduled and orchestrated, walking shoes and Spanish dictionaries were bought and amidst the collective anticipation, Mary Ann had quietly removed her wedding ring. 
A week before we were fly off on our Spanish adventure, our beloved alto Mary Ann went in for routine surgery. Unexpectedly, and some would say unfairly, we lost Mary Ann that day, 8 months after she lost her Brian. We cannot change fate or the will of God, but in these moments, we surely know how to question it. 
Upon the announcement of “last call,” we rose and walked on happily unsteady feet into an empty town square. Looking down, we discovered tiny brass seashells, marking the way to Saint James. Patrick leaned wobbily down, running his fingers over the cool scallop shell as Saint James loaned a shoulder to keep Patrick on his feet. 
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