People sometimes ask where I live in Newport. "Right in the middle, " I tell them. And it's true — but I've talked about that before, and I hate to repeat myself (though I do it all the time), so just click here if you want more on that topic.
The next thing people ask is, "Isn't there a lot of traffic??" I suppose so, but only on weekends in the summer, and even then it's not bad — is it?? I really don't know, if I'm being honest, as I tend to get around on foot or by bike. The car stays parked in the driveway for days upon days upon days.
Third question: "Isn't it loud??" No, actually, it's very quiet — except when the bars let out on Saturday nights. Then, occasionally, we're awakened by conversations on the sidewalk, slamming car doors and spectacles such as raucous football-throwing sessions in the middle of the street. Seriously, that happened (once, a year or two ago). Mr. Betty and I got up and watched out the window at 2 am. It looked like such fun. We were glad these guys weren't getting in cars — after leaving the bars — without some sort of intermediary activity. We like to think Super Son, wherever he is at whatever hour on a Saturday night, is being similarly intelligent. I'm serious!!
But back to the topic at hand, i.e., enjoying the energy of all the downtown busy-ness and revelry, whether or not we're participating, as one can take only so much quiet ...
Thing is: we often are participating. Last Saturday night, for example, we went to a John Hiatt and The Combo concert, just downhill at the Yachting Center; it was part of the Sunset Musical Festival. It was great — even inspiring, as the musicians didn't look too far from us in age. Oh, and they were such amazing masters of their instruments. We even hung around afterwards for up-close glimpses of the artists ... but stopped short of standing in line for autographs. Then we walked across the street to Benjamin's, to the top floor (and we hear there's going to be another floor), where we ran into some friends ...
There's no point in sharing any of this, of course, let alone the fact that on our way home — at closing time — we approached a pair of women from behind. They were, shall we say, weaving their way up the hill, along the brick sidewalk, past all the centuries-old architecture and well-worn steps. When they heard us coming (were we talking loudly??), one said to the other, "Let's stop and let these tourists pass." Nice thought — but we weren't tourists. And said so. Which led to a conversation. We talked about the concert, where they'd been as well. About our kids, in quasi-anonymous fashion. One woman disappeared down a side street, while her friend continued uphill — with some difficulty — 'til we all stood at Mr. Betty's and my driveway, and she asked me apologetically (intelligently) for a ride home.
So my car left the driveway on Saturday night ....
And that (the image right there ^^) has nothing to do with anything: not my car, not my driveway. It's not even current; there's snow on the ground!! Nothing more than a loose association ...
