Sing to me Choir Joseph (yes, another crush…)

In song we know joy,
Worship half-notes, middle C;
Praise the crescendo.
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I’m worried my dearest will think me on the prowl. First there was Bathrobe Man; then it was Running Boy. And now… Choir Joseph has captured my heart.

Alas, I know we have no future. I discovered him in Salt Lake City… some 1600 miles away. He is Mormon and I’m, well, not. But that didn’t keep me from watching him, imagining him, enjoying him, from a distance.

Where to begin…

First, let me start with this place: The Conference Center in Salt Lake City, part of the Mormon Church facilities.

The Conference Center in Salt Lake – side view

This building looks lovely and pristine on the outside, and leads one to believe it is an above average facility for public use or convention center action. Step inside, however, and you are greeted by the following…

Mormon Tabernacle Choir

It was breathtaking to walk into this building and see this. No matter what religion (or not), it was impressive and just a little overwhelming, in that good way. The organ stretching long and tall, the precision of the choir, the sheer size of a place that allows 21,000 to sit comfortably in a semi-circle.

And then the program began. It is a live broadcast – longest continuous live broadcast ever (this one was the last concert in their 84th season). No clapping, no cameras, just you and the music (and at times a silence I longed to break with a hearty woo hoo!).

It became me and Choir Joseph, just the two of us, shortly thereafter.

there he is… *sigh*

It’s a terrible picture, I know. My hands were shaking, my heart was racing. Let me explain why.

First and foremost, he is a renegade. Please note the immaculate lines in the choir. Ramrod straight is how I describe postures and arrangement. Except CJ. He’s on the end, leaning out a bit. He isn’t afraid to stand out among the picture perfect.

Notice how his hands are clasped firmly in front of his body. Look at the rest of the choir – arms at their sides. Rebel.  Purrrrrrr.

But what I loved most about Choir Joseph was how he sang. Unlike his predictable companions, who moved almost nothing but their mouths, CJ sang with his whole body. He swayed. He threw his head back in song. He didn’t need to look at the song book in his hands; he looked instead up, toward the back of the hall (perhaps towards me?), his voice climbing above the rest in praise.

Frankly, he looked a little like Stevie Wonder. Without the glasses. And he’s white. And his hair is shorter… but other than all that, an exact match. Moving to his own beat, bobbing his head, at one with the music and not afraid to let it all hang out.

Once again I find myself smitten by a man who dares to approach the world his own way.   I’m guessing his choir-mates voted him to an aisle seat because he kept bumping into them with his movement – perhaps he isn’t liked much because he dares to stand out.  Me? I love it. In a world of conformity, straight lines and perfect smiles, give me the oddball every time. Choir Joseph set my heart a flutter with short arms clasped across an ample waist; expressive body pouring out impressive song.

Do you think he is really-really Mormon, or just a little Mormon, given his penchant for the original? I wonder if I have a chance…

Dear Diary… Can’t wait to tell you of my latest crush

My secrets revealed,
As the pen scratches across
The lined, smooth paper

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Dear Diary,

I know it’s been a while since I wrote anything. Typical. But I had to tell you about this new man in my life. After Bathrobe Man, I wasn’t sure I was ever going to have a commute crush again (the word crush is so appropriate, right?!). But there is a new guy. I call him Running Boy.

Truth be told, I’ve known him a while. I guess about 9 months ago I spotted him — he was running, obviously… But he was so different from the others I had seen dolefully completing their morning routines.

Let me explain. He doesn’t look like a runner. The shorts to the knees seem amazingly confining, but he never seems to mind. The baseball cap — always red — is ever present. But there are three things about him that really caught my eye then and continue now.

His mustache — dark brown, thick, fully covering the lip-nose gap. I haven’t seen one that bountiful since Magnum PI. And no little go-tee attached to it – he is all about the stache and lets it stand on its own. I admire that about him. I wish he would remove the ball cap, because I’m convinced it is holding back a full head of thick, curly hair that even now I can imagine running my hands through.

Not to be outdone by his facial hair is his leg hair. He is a little on the pale side, so even at 40 mph, I can see the thick hair covering his legs. I miss hairy men. I’m not looking for Big Foot, but those Ambercrombie and Fitch teenagers models, with their smooth chests, do absolutely nothing for me. A real man needs hair on his chest, a little on his back… and some on the shoulders to add to the overall manliness of the landscape.  It takes a real woman to tame a man with ample body hair. Running boy… you can tell he is a real man.

Lastly, it’s his run. He runs like an 8 year old boy. High on his toes, he flies down the sidewalk, his heels never touching ground. No mamby-pamby jogging, he is running, full tilt, balls of his feet bearing the brunt. Honestly, the first time I saw him I was convinced he was running away from someone. I imagined he had stayed the night with his girlfriend — a married woman in her mid 40’s let’s just say — and had quickly darted out the backdoor for some unexplained reason and needed to return home quickly. That was the only way I could explain the overly long shorts and ball cap — and that unpracticed gait — the first time I set eyes on him. But when I saw him a few days later, and then kept seeing him time and time again… well I decided he was just a rebel, a man who wanted health no matter what the ridicule.

So, Diary, here I am — still pining some for Bathrobe Man — who by the way hasn’t had the guts to show his face again — but finding that the fog is lifting the more time I spend with Running Boy.  I’m not going to do anything about it just yet… perhaps start driving just a wee bit slower in case he might notice me. Or maybe I’ll find a reason to stop at the Pony Keg first thing in the morning before his journey takes him by there… just to see if I can catch his eye with a smile.  It’s worth a try…

Yours,

Maureen

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