The Hills ARE Alive!

Last week I was invited to go to "The Sound of Music: Sing-Along."  I was excited (especially because some pretty spectacular people covered the cost of my ticket...Thanks Joanne and Mary!!) and ready to sing when I arrived at the Gish house.  Mary moaned a little bit about not owning a nun's habit and not being able to dress up, but we hopped in the Speier's van and headed to the Arlington.  Mary and Taylor and I did a great job of embarrassing the junior high girls (Tati and Jordan) by singing "The HIIIILLS are aliiiiiiive with the sOUnd of muuuuuuuuusic (aah ah ah ah)" at the top of our voices from our parking spot all the way to the theatre. 

Once we walked into the theatre, tickets in hands, we gawked at our fellow movie-goers - the ones who did dress up.  Over there was Maria as a novice!  And there was Captain von Trapp!  And look at the von Trapp kids! 

We waltzed down the aisle and found a row with some friends, and sat down - still embarrassing the younger girls.  We sat enthralled at a "Behind the Scenes" short documentary, but we were ready for the main attraction.  When the lights lowered we leaned forward in our seats and clapped with the rest of the audience.  As the opening credits rolled I was suddenly struck with awe: I was watching The Sound of Music on the big screen.  This movie was released in 1965 - 21 years before I was born.  It's a modern-day classic; everyone knows about The Sound of Music.  And I was watching it on the big screen. 

Wow.

But as soon as Julie Andrews came into view my awe was replaced by delight and as the music swelled I glanced at Mary.  She looked back at me with a grin on her face and then took a deep breath and belted "THE HIIILLS ARE ALIIIIVE..."  I laughed in pure delight and joined in.  When Mary, Taylor, and I supplied the first "Aah aah aah aahs" the rest of the audience erupted in laughter.  This, of course, set the three of us off in giggles, and I found it hard to sing along. 

Amazing, right?

The audience was great: people were cheering and yelling out advice to the characters on screen.  And behind us people were playing kazoos during every song.  I leaned over to Mary.  "They have kazoos.  Next time..."

"Next time we are bringing kazoos.  Definitely." 

I was swept along by the storyline, even though I have seen the movie countless times before.  I wasn't the only one, though.  There were audible gasps and claps sprinkled throughout the audience.  There was laughter when we all saw there were lyrics posted for the song the nuns were singing - in Latin.  Mary and I had a grand time translating for everyone in the theatre...Completely ignoring the fact that I speak no Latin and Mary speaks very little.  And when Maria and Captain von Trapp kissed for the first time a group of people behind us set off some poppers.  We jumped, and I turned to Mary again.  "They have poppers.  Next time..."

"Next time we are bringing poppers.  Definitely."

As I was enjoying myself and the movie I was suddenly pulled out of the moment.  I watched Captain von Trapp refusing to give into the Nazi generals and I sent up a prayer of gratitude that I have never lived in a time or place in which my life has been put in such danger for saying a simple word: No.  I sent up a prayer of thanks that I have never had to leave my home to save my life, and I have never had to live in fear and hiding.  I know when I saw the movie as a child that I could figure the Nazis were bad - Brigitta says it very well in the movie: "Maybe it's the flag with the big, black spider that has everyone so nervous."  Anyone, at any age, who sees that flag knows it isn't a flag portraying goodness and light.  But I had never before understood what it really meant to live in that shadow.  Even now, never having lived like that, I can't truly understand it.  And I sent up a prayer of thanks that I can't understand it.

Just as I - and most of the audience - were completely engrossed and heartbroken that Rolfe had joined the Nazis, and were breathlessly hoping he wouldn't betray the von Trapps the poppers shot off again.  I jumped about a mile high in my seat, I noticed from the corner of my eye that Mary had put her hand to her chest. 

"That scared me so badly!" she laughed to me.  I nodded in agreement.  But I was glad, because it yanked me out of my heavy, contemplative mood.  I was back in the joyful, excited mood I had begun the night in.  We finished the movie the same way we started it: laughing and clapping and singing. 

As we danced our way back to the car (still embarassing the younger girls) I was somewhere in the Alps, not on State Street in Santa Barbara.  My mind was drifting along, brought back to Earth by the laughter of my friends.  I joined in, singing along, and we tumbled into the car, just in the knick of time, too, because rain drops were beginning to fall from the sky. 

We all agreed that the evening was almost magical.  As we drove back home I looked at our little mountain range (no comparison to the Alps!) and imagined them ringing with the sound of music.  Back at Mary's house I hopped out of the van and gave hugs all around, then hurried to my car to avoid the rain. 

As I started my car I looked in my rear-view mirror for another look at the mountains.  I could swear they were singing for me.  I smiled hummed back at them, then pulled my car into the road, ready to go home and sleep. 

Lots of love,

Psalm 98:4