SWELL

The lead actress was a bit awkward. "Not fluid," I said to my grandson.
We were talking about the production of "Singin' in the Rain" that he directed and co-choreographed as a senior thesis project in his college theater studies program. I attended the last night of the show amidst a packed and enthusiastic audience. Lots of cheering and applause.
"But, hey,"I continued, "She did it. She sang and danced and said her lines. She's brave."
"She's not a theater major." he said. "She just wanted to do it. It's what I have to work with."
"She's brave, and I'm being picky," I said.

"Overall," I continued, "It was swell."
Note, I didn't say - It was awesome or amazing or, even, cool - the terms du jour. It was swell.

I thought about my choice of the word - swell - a visceral, perhaps sublimal reaction. A word Gene Kelly or Donald O'Connor might have used back then, in their time, in 1952, when they appeared in the movie, "Singin' in the Rain," played on the big screen, then referred to as the "silver screen."

I just couldn't get the word, swell, out of mind. Was it because I felt so proud of my grandson? How he took a seemingly dated production and made it relevant. How he incorporated the various forms of dance, how he pulled it together with lighting and sound, music, costuming and character development. After all, directors have the last word.. This while writing a senior thesis, taking courses and exams, all in a high pressure academic environment.

My heart swelled - a fullness different from when I hear evocative music when I feel an inner fullness, an expansion and twist, more in my abs than in my heart. My throat swelled too. I had to swallow during the curtain call. Before I could speak.

Our conversation was over a late after theater supper. My inner parts were back to size and shape. Almost. We talked more about the show, what wine to choose, the vegetarian menu choices, next day plans.

And my mind, my inner speech and ears could only hear, "It was swell."