A few years back, I said yes to something I rarely say yes to: a last-minute invitation. Honestly, though, I sometimes don’t say yes to first-minute invitations, either. Weeks or months in advance, I’ll buy a ticket to a concert or ballgame and then, day of, hem and haw about going... more than a few times content to stay put, and savor the moment I’m already in.
But following this particular last-minute yes, I found myself in a small sea of listeners, at Seattle’s Benaroya Hall, while two men in armchairs, bathed in warm theater light, chatted on stage. The interviewee, writer and farmer, Wendell Berry. And while I don’t recall most of what he said that night, I do remember how I felt, listening.