The Indianapolis Orchestra presents a month-long series of concerts in December they call Yule Tide. They don't dare use the word Christmas as it might offend some people. It is held in their home named Hilbert Theater on the circle in Downtown Indy.
The Circle was constructed in the heyday of motion pictures and vaudeville in 1916 with a seating capacity of over 1,700. Over time it ceased to be viable as a movie theater so it went into decline. In 1984 with a generous gift from Stephen Hilbert of Conseco, the building was purchased and renovated and became the home of the symphony that had been at Clowes Hall on the Butler Campus.
The top seats of the theater are higher than the back row at the Big House at U. of Michigan. No matter when we apply our tickets are always near the top. They are so far up there they have not only their own zip code but they are also in another time zone.
The spotlights are located in a booth in the top and when they are turned on one can see the dry skin and dust particles in the air. One time I was in the next to last row and got a spotlight burn on my non-folliculating head.
One occasion I thought I would just sneak in and gaze on the promised land knowing I will never get to sit on the ground floor or in the orchestra pit,. I had no ticket and all I wanted to do was languish, linger and look, savoring what it must be like to sit in the consecrated great hall to enjoy the program up close and personal.
As I turned to enter, I was confronted by Harmyou, Amazon Woman, enormous bald head, six feet eight inches tall, 300 pounds. I tried to walk past her, she barked, "Sir, you are not allowed to enter this place." "I know. I am not staying. I will never get to sit in this hallowed hall I just want to look in as Moses did when he had a glimpse of the Promised Land."
I sidled a bit trying to step around her. "Sir," she bellowed, "You are not authorized to enter this inner sanctum," She said stepping in front of me.
She brought her hand out from her robe revealing a can of Mace. Her other hand reached to her hip and produced a truncheon. Sternly she said, "Egor." And at that command a huge dog stepped out from the shadows. It had a ginormous, black body that looked more like a draft horse. He looked me in the eye, emitting a low rumble from his throat and licked his lips in a manner that said, "Come on big boy, I haven't had any Hill Billy meat for some time now."
Knowing they would be harder to move than a hair on a bar of soap, I retreated to my rightful place high in the Alps. We don't even try any more.
Go to my website -- Larryvandeventer.com -- and purchase my books.I grew up North of Calvertville and Graduated from Worthington High School and Indiana State four Times. Contact me at Goosecrick@aol.com or 317-839-7656.