Went to a talk last night at the local university. I imagined the speaker at the front of a huge darkened auditorium: an audience of eager young minds.
Nope. It was a smallish room. Bright fluorescent lights. Everyone seemed to know each other. They were all couples, in jeans or nice corduroys, with matching white hair and fleece jackets. They greeted each other enthusiastically. They spoke to each other in low voices about dinner and haircuts. There were a few students; they seemed to know the elders too.
I sat alone, at the back, in my embroidered purple top and scented oil: a loner hippie. It was my big exciting smart university event, except it turned out to be senior date night. Oh well.
The speaker arrived, flushed and excited, panicked over possibly being late and definitely desperately having parked on the sidewalk. She was passionate and eloquent. I was fascinated by the depth of her knowledge. I appreciated hearing the latest info in my field.
She took questions. There were political nuances associated with her topic. The audience was a bit hostile, or am I too sensitive?
I spoke with the speaker and gave her my book.
So maybe it wasn't what I'd imagined. It was still a great night because I learned a lot.
