The
CAROL MARSELLA LIBRARY
I am relatively convinced that in a past life I was Walter Mitty.
CARLOS RETURNS...
DREAMS PRAYERS & PROMISES
HOMEWARD JESS
JUST FOR FUN
LIBRARY
MISCELLANEOUS ARTICLES, NOTES, & POEMS
THE WHINE CELLAR
Tag Board
effie tait:
hi carol, just seing if i can do this..thought my smoke alarm was the laptop having a nervous breakdown...F xxxx
Destiny:
Hi Carol-- I found this nifty little area too. I liked the story and plan on reading the book! You will autograph it for me won't you? Des
Poppy:
Liiiiike the new colors! Vibrant and fresh! Good Job!
Margaret B.:
Happy Thanksgiving MacDaniels Clan! from the Biernbaums we'll be over for desert!
Livie:
Oh Carol! I have found a new toy. I like how I can stop by and drop in a line or two! Now I can pester you for installments all day long and there is nothing you can do about it! Olivia
Chase & Jordan:
Hey Carol-It was the thrill of our life to finally meet you and Steve. Can't decide which one of you we have crushes on. LOL! Let's see more blogging and excerpts please. This story is way too good to let stand still. Chase and Jordan
Danny:
hey Kiddo--I know I have teased you about your love of football in the past, but I like your post and admire your presentation. You're a pretty cool chick and Steve is a lucky guy to be able to share football with ya.Here's hoping it all turns out fair. For the record, I am not sure whether or not the Blades can avoid being relegated either, but you are all right about the fine being a mere drop in the ocean. It's just wrong. D.
Louise S.:
I think you are so interesting. I have begun to make it a habit to come in here to see what you are up to. Looking forward to more BEHIND THE WALL!
Linda:
Carol --I've come in here to read BTW and love the excerpts you've chosen. It was great to see you both in Scotland again (And the kids - how they've all grown!) - even though the circumstances were so sad. You were awesome for Steve at the funeral. I am proud of you. He's a lucky man to have you and I believe he will get through this. With you at his side how can he not.
Rick:
CarolPlease extend my condolances to Stve and all your family on the loss of your father in law. I know it ia hard right now, so if i don't get to read you for a while, I'll be thinking of you. Rick
Teej---:
Carol and SteveYou know we're here for you if you need anything at all. Grandy was a wonderful man and he will be missed by everyone who knew him.Teej and Deej
Elizabeth:
Oh Carol, I am so very sorry to learn of Steve's dad's passing. I am sure it is a very painful time for you and yours. Please accept my sincerest condolances.Eliz
Bea:
Carol -\Plase extend my sincerest condolances to Steve on the loss of his dad. I know how much it hurts and how you all loved him. He did sound like a wonderful man and he certainly raised a wonderful son. If you guys need anything... If there is anying I can do...Bea
Danny:
Carol-Sorry to hear about Steve's father passing. I can't imagine how much it must hurt. S.
Carol:
Danny! You can be so unkind! Does this mean you are happy to see someone hurtin'? LOLFirst of all, he is not MY Sean Bean - Second of all, although his last two films may not have been his best, his performances in both of them were outstanding; I trust you made note of that. Lastly, I saw the game yesterday and truly felt bad about it. There is something fundamentally wrong with how all this was attained by West Ham and I am not so sure I trust what the outcome will be... It has made for
Danny:
Hey Carol, Looks like your Sean Bean is having a rough go of it lately. Two bad movies and yesterday his team lost Premiership.
Louise:
Carol I stumbled in here on Wednesday evening and have loved every minute. You have a real no nonsense way of writing that I happen to like very much. Terrific job. (Oh and I like your taste in men too. Sean Bean is definitely a hottie!)
Elizabeth:
Yeah, Carol, post about your wonderful marriage. We do all want to know. What's your secret for keeping things so tight between you and Steve all these years. Most of the time, I can't stand my husband! LOL.
Carol:
Thanks for the remarks everyone - Please remember that the excerpts are very raw. What I have prepared now for the book is infinately more polished... Odds botkins, I love youz!Carol
Bea:
Oh Carol, I want to be you! What is your secret for getting on so well for so long with your Steve. We all want to know!
Elizabeth:
Carol this is terrific. I am so happy for you! I love the excerpts you have chosen (and I can say that because I know where this is going!) Your time has come and I am so excited to be here to see it all unfold for you!Love you!Elizabeth
TJ:
You went to see Christopher Plummer and Brian Dennehey? Why you no good low down... I am SO JEALOUS! I love them both! Still, nobody deserves a wonderful night out more than you, lady!JT
Bea:
Hi Carol. Good to see Madison County Event restored. I thought it had fallen off the book.
Ria:
Carol this is brilliant! I am amazed at your creativity!
Leah:
I love your latest. Perfect Muse. You are so freakin' funny!
Marian:
This is really great, Carol! Kudos, kiddo!~ :D
DCH:
Ah! As soon as you mentioned Sean Bean, I kind of figured you'd had him in mind for your character. (Which character I'm not certain yet; there seems to be several incorporated in the story -- Steve, Logan and Jamie . . .) I'll read it again! I've known how great Sean Bean is since the first time I saw the "Sharp" series on the History Channel years ago . . and just had to own the videos (now a set of DVDs as well!). I love the Sharp character and Sean is absolutely perfect in that role!
Bea:
JEEPERS! How did I miss this?!Terrific stuff, even in its roughest form. I cannot wait to see the final product, m'dear! TJ is right; you MUST finish it! And YOU are right; it IS the best thing you have ever done. How clever you are! INDEED!
Chase:
I LOVE THE WAY YOU WRITE! You make me want to be Logan!Chase
Ricky:
Hey you! Been reading more Logan. Congrats on rekindling your love affair with Bean! LOLSeriously, Carol, it's damn good!
Carol:
Thanks D and all... No, Rick, I have not seen it. I am not inclined to scare myself senseless... LOLCarol
Danny:
I love this. Your excerpts from BTW are awesome. I am thrilled for you, Kiddo! Don't let the shock of catching Bean out of his element befuddle you; you're better than that. Loved Madison COUnty Event too! As you would say, it's Good Stuff. Cheers babe.D-man
Rick:
You scare me. Have you seen Hitcher? Damn!
Barb -:
I am left speechless. But in a good way.
Bea:
Girlfriend you are something else. This is awesome tho I am surprised you are sharing it. Is our old fashioned girl going to join the millinium and start blogging?
Sunday, April 25th 2004
7:11 AM
DREAMS, PRAYERS, and PROMISES Part Two
As Judy and I walked away from Mr. Fuller and left that moment behind us, I was so affected by the revelation, by all that had just transpired, that I was moved to tears.
This is not like me, at all.
Anyone who knows me knows that I do not cry easily. And yet, I had to leave the auditorium. An urgent trip to the ladies' lounge where I broke down to the point of uninhibited sobbing was a gracious respite. After a few minutes, though, you will be pleased to know that I managed to compose myself, freshen up and walk back to the auditorium with my dignity intact. Mostly.
We stopped back at Alex Cord's table where I finally made my purchase for David. I asked Mr. Cord to choose a photo with a story and he chose his favorite: one of him standing alongside his favorite horse. (Mashaunda, I believe, was her name.) He then told me the accompanying story and I was more than grateful to hear it. It was a lovely story and the way Mr. Cord told it was so captivating that it was the perfect distraction. He had no idea of how he so sweetly aided in the complete recovery of my composure. (One can never know their real purpose for having been placed in the path of another.)The look in his eyes as he shared his warm account of his horse, Mashaunda, endeared him to me. He signed the photograph for my friend and he wrote the name of the horse there to help me to remember to tell the story.
Just about this time, we noticed that all the vendors were picking up their wares and Mr. Cord started to organize his photographs and pick them up. Judy assisted him as they chatted, again like old friends. A Kodak moment if ever there was one, so I seized the opportunity and snapped away.
After obtaining a few satisfying shots, I moved through what was left of the crowd and came upon our old friends the look-alikes. Having helped Mr. Cord pack his things, Judy joined us and we, five, had a great time together laughing and poking fun at each other. What great guys they were. (I love playing with someone who can not only give a joke but take one as well.) So we hung around with them for a little while until it was time to clear out. The hotel staff needed to completely redesign the room for the banquet that was to be taking place at seven o'clock and here it was, already past two.
As we were about to leave the Patriot Hotel to mosey down the street to the Ramada where we were staying, Judy and I ran into Moira and Angelika in the lobby. We exchanged pleasantries, asked what time they thought we should arrive and of course, as women do, what they were planning to wear to the banquet. After all, they had already been there for several days and would surely know what was expected by way of festival protocol, right?
I had, in anticipation that we would probably go out to dinner, brought with me a lovely, flowing Ralph Lauren skirt and matching sweater and thought it would be just perfect for this type of a banquet; not too dressy, not too casual. Little did we know we were in for a major set up.
One of the gals was in a hurry to get to their room while the other stayed to chat with us a bit. During that brief conversation, we were encouraged, as this was a western festival after all, to wear our jeans. They were going out sight seeing and would not have time to change at all, so we should not change either. Judy was thrilled to hear this as she does not like to dress up and I was more than a little disappointed, as I love to dress up, especially for dinner. Still, one cannot knock the convenience of a quick shower, throwing on a fresh pair of Jeans and a tee shirt and trotting out the door!
Back at the room, whilst Judy and I talked some more, (Does this surprise you?) she brilliantly out-maneuvered the camcorder and successfully hooked it up to our TV so we could watch the tape of me meeting Mr. Fuller. (I was truly amazed at how much I never saw or heard at the time.) We conversed, in depth, about why I said the things I did instead of the things I had planned. (Truth is, it was rather upsetting that I had done that and we came to the conclusion that some things simply have no explanation.) Before we knew it, it was time to go back for dinner. I suggested that I was going to wear my skirt. "What could it hurt," I pondered audibly. Judy lectured me on the benefits of fitting in and not dressing up when no one else will... and I have to admit that what she said made sense. I had only just met Moira and Angelika and did not want to alienate them. So off we went - in our jeans - to the banquet. (I still could not get past the fact that they were calling it a "banquet" but I can be that way...)
We arrived at the Patriot and as we entered the building, the lobby was filled. Everyone, I mean everyone, was dressed to the nines. The line to get into the banquet hall was frustratingly long; Judy and I looked at one another, sighed and took our place at the end of it. Within minutes, one culd not even see the end as so many more people had fallen in behind us. When Moira and Angelika came walking past, Judy and I took one look at them and our chins dropped clear to the floor. Angelika looked like she was about to walk the red carpet. (Wonder what Miss Rivers would have to say about Judy and I!! -- You know, normally, I love a joke, and I am not too particular about whether I am on the giving end or the receiving end. If there is a laugh to be had, I am there with bells on. But this time, I have to admit that I did utter a few expletives when the two of them walked forward to the front of the line where Amy had saved them spaces.) After a few minutes, however, Judy and I were again dissolving into fits of laughter as we contemplated the idea that they pulled this over on us. Especially given that I hold the reigning title as the queen of practical jokers!! Who would ever believe it?
The banquet was very nice. Fried Chicken, buffet style. Good food. Good Company. We were seated with Angelika, Amy and Moira who introduced us to Bubba, (yes, Bubba... Wanna make something of it?) and Ray and Joe. These three gentlemen are also fans of Mr. Fuller's. Our three finely dressed lady friends had made their acquaintance earlier in the week and the familiarity they all felt with one another spilled over onto Judy and I in no time. What a great table! We laughed the evening away as the obligatory awards honoring the celebrities for their attendance were handed out. Speeches were made, some funny, some touching, some witty. There was a magician, then a few singers, "God Bless America" and the event was over. How very nice. (Well, at least the fact that we were not dressed properly had turned out to be moot.)
Judy and I had exited the banquet room early and decided to stop in the hotel bar before leaving so she could enjoy a beer. Our hotel did not have a bar and the alternative would have been to drive around looking for a store. The bar was handy. I ordered a ginger ale and sipped it at the small table that we had occupied off to the side while we laughed some more about our unwitting fashion statement. Judy suggested we wait to see if any of our group from the table would come into the bar and went on to say that perhaps we should take the large rectangular table in the center of the room. I was flat out against it. Did not like the idea at all. Thought a smaller table would be better. (Remember the Biblical parable that tells of the man who sits at an improper place at the table and is asked to move? Better to be invited, uh, if there is any inviting to be done, that is.) She disagreed with me but honored my concerns. Judy is generous like that.
Within a few minutes, Mr. Fuller and Bubba walked into the bar and took the large rectangular table in the center of the room. (Don't say it.) Next, Ray and Joe showed up and they waved to us and made their way over to the big table. The four of them were enjoying a drink and laughing. Angelika arrived, waved a quick hello to us and walked by to join them. Judy pestered me again to join the group. I resisted again, "Not until we are asked. It would be rude."
She responded adamantly. "But, Carol, it is rude NOT to join them."
It was about this time that I succumbed to her suggestion, as I had to admit she surely knows more about bar etiquette than I. "Okay, but I wish we had been asked. I feel like we are crashing their party. I am uncomfortable."
Just then, Amy arrived and saved the day for both of us. "Hey you two, come on over here and join us." (I love when that happens!)
Now, we were both happy as we lifted our drinks, walked over to their table and sat. Mr. Fuller was at the head; I was at the foot, directly opposite him. Nice view. (Too bad he could not say the same, but hey, that's life! Whaddayagonnado?) It was a nice group and we anticipated that it would take about thrity to forty minutes to wrap up. Cool! At some point, Mr. Fuller stood halfway up from his seat and announced that he would be expecting to dance with each of the ladies as he waved his index finger in a half circle, clockwise, starting at Judy and concluding with Angelika who was sitting diagonally at the far corner of the table, directly at his right. As our eyes obeyed his gesture and we each looked upon the other, I noted that the sparkling in everyone's eyes was rivaled only by the stars outside. I wondered what was happening here.
The camaraderie was notable. I could not believe the level of cosiness I felt in the company of these people whom I had never met before and I realized that Judy had been utterly correct. My guard was as low as it goes. No. It was down. Way down.
Know what? This is not like me, at all.
Before long, it was my turn to dance with the man. He waved at me and extended his hand over the table as though he was reaching for me. I stood, offered some smart mouthed remark and ambled forward extending my hand for his as I made my way around the table in his direction. He took my hand and as we stepped onto the dance floor, I realized, too late, that there was no way, in spite of my comfort level, that I was going to be able to give up the physical control that was going to be required. I believe I did not show it, but I was truly upset with myself as he indicated he would really like to lead... (Stop laughing!) Finally, I looked up at him and stated my quandary. "I can't." You know, another man might have suggested, in that case, that we sit, or at the very least might have showed his annoyance - and either reaction would have been justifiable, but Mr. Fuller did neither. He showed nothing at all. I could not read him. (Note to self: NEVER play poker with this man.) He put his hands on my shoulders and managed to lead me around the floor in a very subtle, non-threatening way. I found this amazing and admired him for it. I admired him a lot.
Now, I am going to go into some of what we spoke about. I do not mean to be cryptic, but I cannot share most of what was said for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that to repeat his words would be inappropriate and unacceptable. It would serve no purpose and all I could offer is my interpretation of what he said which, out of context, would make no sense to anyone else... so there is no point. That said, *smirk* there remain a few words that passed between us that I must repeat in order to share my testimony. I will write those, but I remain cautious. Additionally, this is probably a good place to include the obvious notation that I did consider preparing this exposition without directly naming the man about whom I was writing, but there would not be a clear bearing on why it all mattered so much if I had kept his identity a secret. Knowing it was Robert Fuller, given what he means to me, answers a bevy of questions you would have. Therefore, I shall continue.
As we moved about the floor to a song I did not hear, he asked me to tell him again the story I had told him that afternoon. How endearing. Convinced that he was just being nice, I offered the tiniest bit more detail and was amazed that he was interested enough to ask questions that would encourage me to go on. I touched on the idea that he, as Jess Harper, had ministered to me when I was a child.
I wanted him to know that I was relatively normal (I heard that) and that I did not think he actually WAS Jess Harper. Yet, it seemed important to me to add that, at the time when his characterization helped me so much, I was a little girl and utterly believed that Jess Harper was a real person. He understood that. (I really need to learn to give people more credit. This man has been around! He knew exactly what I was telling him. He never interrupted me, though... Amazing man.)
Pleased with myself over my explanation, I was content to usher the conversation along and talk about something else.
He stopped dancing and stood still, took my face in his hands and, ever so sweetly, he spoke these words that I shall never forget. "I am Jess Harper."
TILT!
Now, you know me. You know that I work with celebrities every day. I know a lot of actors. Good ones and not so good ones. And I have never, ever heard of an actor doing anything so selfless. It makes me tear up just to remember it. (But you know, this is not like me, at all.)
I wanted to give him something back.
"No," I said.
Lord knows, he did not have to do that and, in truth, I was wishing he would not do that because my unyeilding heart was softening up. I was consumed by the warmth I was feeling towards him at that moment. I am sure that I have never met anyone else like him.
He went on to further illustrate his point by explaining to me that it was his face and his voice, his heart that went onto the character. What kind of person is he? Who taught him to be so generous? (It was a good thing he was holding my hands again. I might have hugged him. If I had, we would still be standing there.)
To clarify, you will remember that I have offered a description of myself in part one. This was not an attempt at seduction; this was a gift. A gift he did not have to give. There was no reason for him to do this. For that matter, there was no reason for him to dance with me. I neither expected this nor looked for it and yet, there it was. To be honest, it was very difficult for me to stay in the moment.
Stunned by his offering, I clumsily received his gift. I did not speak. After that I could not look directly into his eyes. Not if he was giving me time with Jess. I cannot become THAT vulnerable for anyone. Nope. Cannot do it.
The music had stopped and no one was on the dance floor except the two of us. He made no move toward the table and neither did I.
Wisely, the band played another slow song.
After a few silent moments, as we sauntered lazily back and forth, I offered something else about those days all those years ago. Something about the grand scheme of things... He seemed to understand what I was trying to tell him. He seemed pleased. I was happy that he received that. Happy that he seemed to have already had an understanding that there is more than what we see and touch. More than we could ever know.
Still unable to look into his eyes, I was watching his mouth as he spoke. He was still holding both of my hands and asking more questions. I could sense the spiritual tone that was overtaking our conversation. He was speaking but I did not hear him. I was too busy thanking God. That is when it happened the first time.
For reasons of which I am unaware, he leaned in close to my face, his brow furrowed seeming to me almost into a scowl and he asked me if I was a Christian. (Please do not misunderstand me, I have made mention of the fact that our conversation had already taken a spiritual tone. He did not ask me this out of the blue; I am sure that something in the conversation provoked his question, but I cannot remember what it was.)
Having not had more than three to four minutes in Mr. Fuller's company, I had no way to know what his expression meant or did not mean. That said, I was so sure that I was about to be rejected by this man who had just offered one of the most incredible gifts anyone had ever given to me, and who, in no short order, had so endeared himself to me, that I was not about to take such a chance. I shook my head ever so slightly and stared at him mutely. I did not answer. ONE
He brushed off his question and moved the conversation along. Our sudden mutual discomfort was now palpable.
Stunned that I, being the 'rootin' tootin' Bible quotin' born again Christian" that I am, would have refused to answer that question, I tried to force it out of him again. He rose to the bait and rephrased his question. Against all odds, I remained fearful of his rejecting me and I responded the same way. TWO
My responses were proving to be bitterly perplexing to me. And I am compelled to note that he did nothing to inspire this fear in me other than exhibit a facial expression that I knew I had no way of interpreting. The only one at fault here is me.
I was distracted. He changed the subject. Out of left field, he asked me if I had seen Emergency One. I told him I had not. He insisted that I must have seen it and furrowed his brow again. Why did it matter? Jess was the one who mattered. In truth, I have seen an episode of Emergency One (which, by the way, I had thought was called Emergency. That shows you what I know). I bought it off ebay in order to learn about the characters so I could effectively beta a story. But I knew that was not what he was trying to get me to say. He wanted to hear me say I had watched the series. I did not know why it mattered to him, like that. Nor did I know when I had stopped being a grown woman and turned into a little girl who was afraid of losing her friend, but, at that point, I would have said anything he wanted to hear and prevarication was not below me. "Yes, I have seen Dr. Brackett."
Now you know that I am a person who rarely, if ever, cares about what other people think. I do care about what others need or want, but not to this degree, and never when I do not understand. (What was going on, here?)
This answer seemed to displease him, somehow. Perhaps he knew that I had not really seen it - after all, he is the actor, not I.
The music ended and he silently ushered me off the dance floor. The time had come and gone. I realized that there had been more purpose to my being in this place at this time than I had thought...
When I sat down, Judy asked me what on earth had happened. She could see the sudden change in both our demeanors. "I denied Him," I said. She did not understand. How could she?
The rest of the night was pleasant enough. What I had thought would last thirty minutes, had turned into several hours. We all got to know one another better and we had shared a lot of laughs. Alas, it had come to an end. The lights came up. It was time to go. Hugs all around. He came to me, placed his forehead against mine and whispered something. He knew I did not hear him. He said it again. It was very sweet. But it was cryptic.
Instinctively, I knew that I could not let it end this way. There was no guarantee that I would ever see him again. Emboldened by the proverbial ticking of the clock, I interrupted him as he was saying goodnight to someone else and asked him if I could speak to him before he left. He nodded. I moved off to the side and waited. In just a minute he came over to me and asked what I needed. Time was of the essence. He was leaving. I threw propriety to the wind. "Can you tell me why you asked me if I was a Christian?"
This had been very clumsy of me and it was obvious by the tone of his response as well as his body language that he had felt confronted. He performed a beautifully executed equivocal side step. "Did I ask you that?"
"Yes, you did?"
"Well, I don't know why. It doesn't matter, does it?" He turned to leave and then he turned back. There was another brief exchange between us but it does not bare repeating as it was equally fruitless. Indeed, there was one more chance given wherein I actually managed to maneuver him into asking me, in so many words, the question again and, unbelievably, I did not answer him - again. THREE
We all said good-bye and Judy and I left the Patriot to head back for the Ramada. I drove. But I do not remember any of it until I was parking the car in our lot. We went inside. I did not have much to say. We each went to our rooms.
I could not sleep. But I was not thinking about Robert Fuller; I was thinking about... Peter.
...
This is not like me, at all.
Anyone who knows me knows that I do not cry easily. And yet, I had to leave the auditorium. An urgent trip to the ladies' lounge where I broke down to the point of uninhibited sobbing was a gracious respite. After a few minutes, though, you will be pleased to know that I managed to compose myself, freshen up and walk back to the auditorium with my dignity intact. Mostly.
We stopped back at Alex Cord's table where I finally made my purchase for David. I asked Mr. Cord to choose a photo with a story and he chose his favorite: one of him standing alongside his favorite horse. (Mashaunda, I believe, was her name.) He then told me the accompanying story and I was more than grateful to hear it. It was a lovely story and the way Mr. Cord told it was so captivating that it was the perfect distraction. He had no idea of how he so sweetly aided in the complete recovery of my composure. (One can never know their real purpose for having been placed in the path of another.)The look in his eyes as he shared his warm account of his horse, Mashaunda, endeared him to me. He signed the photograph for my friend and he wrote the name of the horse there to help me to remember to tell the story.
Just about this time, we noticed that all the vendors were picking up their wares and Mr. Cord started to organize his photographs and pick them up. Judy assisted him as they chatted, again like old friends. A Kodak moment if ever there was one, so I seized the opportunity and snapped away.
After obtaining a few satisfying shots, I moved through what was left of the crowd and came upon our old friends the look-alikes. Having helped Mr. Cord pack his things, Judy joined us and we, five, had a great time together laughing and poking fun at each other. What great guys they were. (I love playing with someone who can not only give a joke but take one as well.) So we hung around with them for a little while until it was time to clear out. The hotel staff needed to completely redesign the room for the banquet that was to be taking place at seven o'clock and here it was, already past two.
As we were about to leave the Patriot Hotel to mosey down the street to the Ramada where we were staying, Judy and I ran into Moira and Angelika in the lobby. We exchanged pleasantries, asked what time they thought we should arrive and of course, as women do, what they were planning to wear to the banquet. After all, they had already been there for several days and would surely know what was expected by way of festival protocol, right?
I had, in anticipation that we would probably go out to dinner, brought with me a lovely, flowing Ralph Lauren skirt and matching sweater and thought it would be just perfect for this type of a banquet; not too dressy, not too casual. Little did we know we were in for a major set up.
One of the gals was in a hurry to get to their room while the other stayed to chat with us a bit. During that brief conversation, we were encouraged, as this was a western festival after all, to wear our jeans. They were going out sight seeing and would not have time to change at all, so we should not change either. Judy was thrilled to hear this as she does not like to dress up and I was more than a little disappointed, as I love to dress up, especially for dinner. Still, one cannot knock the convenience of a quick shower, throwing on a fresh pair of Jeans and a tee shirt and trotting out the door!
Back at the room, whilst Judy and I talked some more, (Does this surprise you?) she brilliantly out-maneuvered the camcorder and successfully hooked it up to our TV so we could watch the tape of me meeting Mr. Fuller. (I was truly amazed at how much I never saw or heard at the time.) We conversed, in depth, about why I said the things I did instead of the things I had planned. (Truth is, it was rather upsetting that I had done that and we came to the conclusion that some things simply have no explanation.) Before we knew it, it was time to go back for dinner. I suggested that I was going to wear my skirt. "What could it hurt," I pondered audibly. Judy lectured me on the benefits of fitting in and not dressing up when no one else will... and I have to admit that what she said made sense. I had only just met Moira and Angelika and did not want to alienate them. So off we went - in our jeans - to the banquet. (I still could not get past the fact that they were calling it a "banquet" but I can be that way...)
We arrived at the Patriot and as we entered the building, the lobby was filled. Everyone, I mean everyone, was dressed to the nines. The line to get into the banquet hall was frustratingly long; Judy and I looked at one another, sighed and took our place at the end of it. Within minutes, one culd not even see the end as so many more people had fallen in behind us. When Moira and Angelika came walking past, Judy and I took one look at them and our chins dropped clear to the floor. Angelika looked like she was about to walk the red carpet. (Wonder what Miss Rivers would have to say about Judy and I!! -- You know, normally, I love a joke, and I am not too particular about whether I am on the giving end or the receiving end. If there is a laugh to be had, I am there with bells on. But this time, I have to admit that I did utter a few expletives when the two of them walked forward to the front of the line where Amy had saved them spaces.) After a few minutes, however, Judy and I were again dissolving into fits of laughter as we contemplated the idea that they pulled this over on us. Especially given that I hold the reigning title as the queen of practical jokers!! Who would ever believe it?
The banquet was very nice. Fried Chicken, buffet style. Good food. Good Company. We were seated with Angelika, Amy and Moira who introduced us to Bubba, (yes, Bubba... Wanna make something of it?) and Ray and Joe. These three gentlemen are also fans of Mr. Fuller's. Our three finely dressed lady friends had made their acquaintance earlier in the week and the familiarity they all felt with one another spilled over onto Judy and I in no time. What a great table! We laughed the evening away as the obligatory awards honoring the celebrities for their attendance were handed out. Speeches were made, some funny, some touching, some witty. There was a magician, then a few singers, "God Bless America" and the event was over. How very nice. (Well, at least the fact that we were not dressed properly had turned out to be moot.)
Judy and I had exited the banquet room early and decided to stop in the hotel bar before leaving so she could enjoy a beer. Our hotel did not have a bar and the alternative would have been to drive around looking for a store. The bar was handy. I ordered a ginger ale and sipped it at the small table that we had occupied off to the side while we laughed some more about our unwitting fashion statement. Judy suggested we wait to see if any of our group from the table would come into the bar and went on to say that perhaps we should take the large rectangular table in the center of the room. I was flat out against it. Did not like the idea at all. Thought a smaller table would be better. (Remember the Biblical parable that tells of the man who sits at an improper place at the table and is asked to move? Better to be invited, uh, if there is any inviting to be done, that is.) She disagreed with me but honored my concerns. Judy is generous like that.
Within a few minutes, Mr. Fuller and Bubba walked into the bar and took the large rectangular table in the center of the room. (Don't say it.) Next, Ray and Joe showed up and they waved to us and made their way over to the big table. The four of them were enjoying a drink and laughing. Angelika arrived, waved a quick hello to us and walked by to join them. Judy pestered me again to join the group. I resisted again, "Not until we are asked. It would be rude."
She responded adamantly. "But, Carol, it is rude NOT to join them."
It was about this time that I succumbed to her suggestion, as I had to admit she surely knows more about bar etiquette than I. "Okay, but I wish we had been asked. I feel like we are crashing their party. I am uncomfortable."
Just then, Amy arrived and saved the day for both of us. "Hey you two, come on over here and join us." (I love when that happens!)
Now, we were both happy as we lifted our drinks, walked over to their table and sat. Mr. Fuller was at the head; I was at the foot, directly opposite him. Nice view. (Too bad he could not say the same, but hey, that's life! Whaddayagonnado?) It was a nice group and we anticipated that it would take about thrity to forty minutes to wrap up. Cool! At some point, Mr. Fuller stood halfway up from his seat and announced that he would be expecting to dance with each of the ladies as he waved his index finger in a half circle, clockwise, starting at Judy and concluding with Angelika who was sitting diagonally at the far corner of the table, directly at his right. As our eyes obeyed his gesture and we each looked upon the other, I noted that the sparkling in everyone's eyes was rivaled only by the stars outside. I wondered what was happening here.
The camaraderie was notable. I could not believe the level of cosiness I felt in the company of these people whom I had never met before and I realized that Judy had been utterly correct. My guard was as low as it goes. No. It was down. Way down.
Know what? This is not like me, at all.
Before long, it was my turn to dance with the man. He waved at me and extended his hand over the table as though he was reaching for me. I stood, offered some smart mouthed remark and ambled forward extending my hand for his as I made my way around the table in his direction. He took my hand and as we stepped onto the dance floor, I realized, too late, that there was no way, in spite of my comfort level, that I was going to be able to give up the physical control that was going to be required. I believe I did not show it, but I was truly upset with myself as he indicated he would really like to lead... (Stop laughing!) Finally, I looked up at him and stated my quandary. "I can't." You know, another man might have suggested, in that case, that we sit, or at the very least might have showed his annoyance - and either reaction would have been justifiable, but Mr. Fuller did neither. He showed nothing at all. I could not read him. (Note to self: NEVER play poker with this man.) He put his hands on my shoulders and managed to lead me around the floor in a very subtle, non-threatening way. I found this amazing and admired him for it. I admired him a lot.
Now, I am going to go into some of what we spoke about. I do not mean to be cryptic, but I cannot share most of what was said for a number of reasons, not the least of which is that to repeat his words would be inappropriate and unacceptable. It would serve no purpose and all I could offer is my interpretation of what he said which, out of context, would make no sense to anyone else... so there is no point. That said, *smirk* there remain a few words that passed between us that I must repeat in order to share my testimony. I will write those, but I remain cautious. Additionally, this is probably a good place to include the obvious notation that I did consider preparing this exposition without directly naming the man about whom I was writing, but there would not be a clear bearing on why it all mattered so much if I had kept his identity a secret. Knowing it was Robert Fuller, given what he means to me, answers a bevy of questions you would have. Therefore, I shall continue.
As we moved about the floor to a song I did not hear, he asked me to tell him again the story I had told him that afternoon. How endearing. Convinced that he was just being nice, I offered the tiniest bit more detail and was amazed that he was interested enough to ask questions that would encourage me to go on. I touched on the idea that he, as Jess Harper, had ministered to me when I was a child.
I wanted him to know that I was relatively normal (I heard that) and that I did not think he actually WAS Jess Harper. Yet, it seemed important to me to add that, at the time when his characterization helped me so much, I was a little girl and utterly believed that Jess Harper was a real person. He understood that. (I really need to learn to give people more credit. This man has been around! He knew exactly what I was telling him. He never interrupted me, though... Amazing man.)
Pleased with myself over my explanation, I was content to usher the conversation along and talk about something else.
He stopped dancing and stood still, took my face in his hands and, ever so sweetly, he spoke these words that I shall never forget. "I am Jess Harper."
TILT!
Now, you know me. You know that I work with celebrities every day. I know a lot of actors. Good ones and not so good ones. And I have never, ever heard of an actor doing anything so selfless. It makes me tear up just to remember it. (But you know, this is not like me, at all.)
I wanted to give him something back.
"No," I said.
Lord knows, he did not have to do that and, in truth, I was wishing he would not do that because my unyeilding heart was softening up. I was consumed by the warmth I was feeling towards him at that moment. I am sure that I have never met anyone else like him.
He went on to further illustrate his point by explaining to me that it was his face and his voice, his heart that went onto the character. What kind of person is he? Who taught him to be so generous? (It was a good thing he was holding my hands again. I might have hugged him. If I had, we would still be standing there.)
To clarify, you will remember that I have offered a description of myself in part one. This was not an attempt at seduction; this was a gift. A gift he did not have to give. There was no reason for him to do this. For that matter, there was no reason for him to dance with me. I neither expected this nor looked for it and yet, there it was. To be honest, it was very difficult for me to stay in the moment.
Stunned by his offering, I clumsily received his gift. I did not speak. After that I could not look directly into his eyes. Not if he was giving me time with Jess. I cannot become THAT vulnerable for anyone. Nope. Cannot do it.
The music had stopped and no one was on the dance floor except the two of us. He made no move toward the table and neither did I.
Wisely, the band played another slow song.
After a few silent moments, as we sauntered lazily back and forth, I offered something else about those days all those years ago. Something about the grand scheme of things... He seemed to understand what I was trying to tell him. He seemed pleased. I was happy that he received that. Happy that he seemed to have already had an understanding that there is more than what we see and touch. More than we could ever know.
Still unable to look into his eyes, I was watching his mouth as he spoke. He was still holding both of my hands and asking more questions. I could sense the spiritual tone that was overtaking our conversation. He was speaking but I did not hear him. I was too busy thanking God. That is when it happened the first time.
For reasons of which I am unaware, he leaned in close to my face, his brow furrowed seeming to me almost into a scowl and he asked me if I was a Christian. (Please do not misunderstand me, I have made mention of the fact that our conversation had already taken a spiritual tone. He did not ask me this out of the blue; I am sure that something in the conversation provoked his question, but I cannot remember what it was.)
Having not had more than three to four minutes in Mr. Fuller's company, I had no way to know what his expression meant or did not mean. That said, I was so sure that I was about to be rejected by this man who had just offered one of the most incredible gifts anyone had ever given to me, and who, in no short order, had so endeared himself to me, that I was not about to take such a chance. I shook my head ever so slightly and stared at him mutely. I did not answer. ONE
He brushed off his question and moved the conversation along. Our sudden mutual discomfort was now palpable.
Stunned that I, being the 'rootin' tootin' Bible quotin' born again Christian" that I am, would have refused to answer that question, I tried to force it out of him again. He rose to the bait and rephrased his question. Against all odds, I remained fearful of his rejecting me and I responded the same way. TWO
My responses were proving to be bitterly perplexing to me. And I am compelled to note that he did nothing to inspire this fear in me other than exhibit a facial expression that I knew I had no way of interpreting. The only one at fault here is me.
I was distracted. He changed the subject. Out of left field, he asked me if I had seen Emergency One. I told him I had not. He insisted that I must have seen it and furrowed his brow again. Why did it matter? Jess was the one who mattered. In truth, I have seen an episode of Emergency One (which, by the way, I had thought was called Emergency. That shows you what I know). I bought it off ebay in order to learn about the characters so I could effectively beta a story. But I knew that was not what he was trying to get me to say. He wanted to hear me say I had watched the series. I did not know why it mattered to him, like that. Nor did I know when I had stopped being a grown woman and turned into a little girl who was afraid of losing her friend, but, at that point, I would have said anything he wanted to hear and prevarication was not below me. "Yes, I have seen Dr. Brackett."
Now you know that I am a person who rarely, if ever, cares about what other people think. I do care about what others need or want, but not to this degree, and never when I do not understand. (What was going on, here?)
This answer seemed to displease him, somehow. Perhaps he knew that I had not really seen it - after all, he is the actor, not I.
The music ended and he silently ushered me off the dance floor. The time had come and gone. I realized that there had been more purpose to my being in this place at this time than I had thought...
When I sat down, Judy asked me what on earth had happened. She could see the sudden change in both our demeanors. "I denied Him," I said. She did not understand. How could she?
The rest of the night was pleasant enough. What I had thought would last thirty minutes, had turned into several hours. We all got to know one another better and we had shared a lot of laughs. Alas, it had come to an end. The lights came up. It was time to go. Hugs all around. He came to me, placed his forehead against mine and whispered something. He knew I did not hear him. He said it again. It was very sweet. But it was cryptic.
Instinctively, I knew that I could not let it end this way. There was no guarantee that I would ever see him again. Emboldened by the proverbial ticking of the clock, I interrupted him as he was saying goodnight to someone else and asked him if I could speak to him before he left. He nodded. I moved off to the side and waited. In just a minute he came over to me and asked what I needed. Time was of the essence. He was leaving. I threw propriety to the wind. "Can you tell me why you asked me if I was a Christian?"
This had been very clumsy of me and it was obvious by the tone of his response as well as his body language that he had felt confronted. He performed a beautifully executed equivocal side step. "Did I ask you that?"
"Yes, you did?"
"Well, I don't know why. It doesn't matter, does it?" He turned to leave and then he turned back. There was another brief exchange between us but it does not bare repeating as it was equally fruitless. Indeed, there was one more chance given wherein I actually managed to maneuver him into asking me, in so many words, the question again and, unbelievably, I did not answer him - again. THREE
We all said good-bye and Judy and I left the Patriot to head back for the Ramada. I drove. But I do not remember any of it until I was parking the car in our lot. We went inside. I did not have much to say. We each went to our rooms.
I could not sleep. But I was not thinking about Robert Fuller; I was thinking about... Peter.
...
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