Places Occupied By The Not-Quite-Living: Everyday Magic, Days 83-84

A few nights ago, I had the distinct honor of giving a poetry reading at Marysville’s Koester House, an oasis of tall trees, many statues (as written about earlier) and even some stunningly handsome black squirrels (they finally revealed their fine selves to us!). Last night, we wandered through the Waterville Opera House, also built in the late 1900s, where this afternoon, Laura will dance, I will read, and Kelley will sing and play the heck out of a baby grand on the narrow, deep stage.

Both places had the feel of not quite being haunted, but surely occupied, and not just by the occasional caregiver or tourist. Sometimes you enter a room, and there’s a kind of glow or buzz or something beyond sight or sound. Doing the sound check at 10-ish last night, which strangely enough, felt more like 2 a.m. about 100 years ago, I had to say something, so I told all who had been there before how glad we were to have this chance to play, dance and sing in this beautiful hall where all manner of life, death, nuance and surprise, wild turn and secret had happened before. The room glowed and buzzed back.

Thanks to author and photographer supreme Tom Parker for these telling photos of the Koester House!