Finally, hurrah! he came. It was to be a visit of learning and discovery.
Let's start with the learning part: shortly after his arrival I jokingly asked Ry if he had already found a hook up in town using Tinder.
[Side bar: That was my opening to tell him what I had read about Tinder in a post on Vanity Fair,
which presumably would make me look current and well informed. I had read the story describing the users of Tinder and the fast hook up culture in NYC, which, shared with my late middle-age women friends at a recent party, had generated great surprise, curiosity, laughs and, for some, horror]
To my surprise Ry said: "Yes I did and found a couple of connections that I am going to meet". I could not resist following with some sophomoric jokes about whether he was planning to score twice the same day he arrived either before or after dinner. My joke, however, fell almost flat and I was informed that while perhaps the population density of the Big Apple makes the app work as described by Vanity Fair, in reality in most smaller communities it cannot. Furthermore one can use it just as well for hooking up or for finding company to hike a mountain trail or get into the music scene.
Over the next several days I could only be amazed by the speed with which a young man, new in town, could connect with fellow musicians, hikers, yoga practitioners, etc. to suit his interests. Surely, it all started with a photo and a text message, but beyond that any resemblance to Vanity Fair was over. In no time Ry was well connected in Park City and Salt Lake City with other birds-of-a-feather for whatever activities he enjoyed.
To my eyes, suddenly, not only the world has been shrunk by globalization, but society has shrunk to the size of a village where everyone (that you care to know) knows and connect instantly to those that you care to know. It was a learning lesson about social dynamics that felt like stepping into a parallel universe. I may have to try this Tinder thing.
As a result of making the above contacts in the music community, Ry ended up jamming with new found friends in SLC and in Park City. Here he was invited to go to Monday Night Open Mic at The Cabin, I am told, the current hot local hang out for musicians. And that is where the discovery part of the visit came in: I had not heard Ryan playing his guitar in many years and my memories of the last event justified the expectations of being at an elementary-school recital where pride barely exceeds embarrassment. It was to be quite a surprise. The Cabin was indeed crowded with very accomplished musicians who in turn, and in ad hoc groups filled the night with great music. One in particular, Mike Rogers, a professor of music, seemed to instantly and effortlessly match seamlessly with his keyboard any musician that wanted his accompaniment (envy unbound). Enjoying the show, I must admit that my apprehension about Ry's upcoming performance only increased and then...
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