“Are you awake?”

My bride asked that rhetorical question just before midnight. I say rhetorical because she had to have known that I was either sleeping or dead.

Her first “Are you awake?” question did, in fact, wake me. I had a pretty good idea what she had on her mind, but I was playing hard to get. So, I pretended to still be sleeping.

“Are you awake?” she asked again. 

Many wives would have given up then and there and let their husbands rest, but Ellie has needs and she was not to be denied.

Finally she said, “Get up. I just read on Facebook the northern lights are going off. They’re supposedly even better than they were a couple of hours ago. Let’s go someplace where we can get a good view.”

A less astute man might have said, “For God’s sake Ellie, we hiked, biked and drove around for a couple of hours to check them out earlier. It can’t be any better than what we have already seen.” But after over three decades of marital bliss and bickering, I knew the proper response would be, “Let me get some pants on.”

For the next 40 minutes, we once again drove around town to look for the best vantage point to see the northern lights. Honestly, they looked very much like what we saw a few hours earlier — but I kept that thought to myself.

Ellie said, “Let’s park at the recycling center — that should give us a clear view to the north.” I thought we had a pretty good view to the north in our front yard. But rather than voice that thought, I made a bat-turn in the Biff-mobile. 

Truth is, she was correct. The vista was unobstructed, there were no nearby lights and the colors were amazing. It also seemed several others had the same idea, and about 15 of us stood around and marveled at nature’s light show. We might have recognized some of those nearby, but it was way too dark to know. Instead, we all just stood around in the pitch black offering excited exclamations. 

Admittedly, I went there with a bad attitude because I would have rather stayed in bed. But that event provided a heartfelt reminder of the communality of the human condition. Despite politics, social, spiritual or sexual differences, we all have more in common than that which divides us.

Standing there in the dark I’m sure were those on the right, those on the left, those of various skin tones and perhaps even one or two New York Yankees fans. But any political, sexual or social differences were diluted by a collective in appreciation of the astrological gift of color. 

There is an old story about a rabid, segregationist congressman from the Deep South in the late 1930s. This racist was visiting a state-funded school for the blind. Actually, there were two schools at the same location — a school for white students and one for black students. The black school, also state-funded, provided basic education in a separate, but not equal, setting. 

The only time the black and whites students were under one roof was at a yearly school dance. Before the gathering, the staff would erect a rope across the room to keep races from mixing, yet allowing each to have their space, hear the music and avail themselves to separate tables of lemonade and sweets.

The congressman was invited to attend. At some time during the event someone bumped the posts holding up the rope of separation. Before long, the races mixed with neither color being aware of the color of the other. According to the story, the staff was mortified and scrambled to re-erect the rope and separate the various ethnicities. 

The congressman told them to not bother. He watched as the students, mixed, danced and snacked unaware of the creed or color of those around them.

The story continued with that member of the state house changing his former opinion of segregation. 

I thought of all that while standing around folks in the dark that night of the northern lights. I could not see their age, color or clothing. That sense of kinship and community was more powerful than any opinion or position. 

I could hear voices all around me but could not see who was speaking. After about 30 minutes, clouds rolled in and the light show became less vivid. It sounded like we were the first to leave. My mate said, “Well that was worth the effort, but let’s go back to bed.”

As we walked back to the car I heard over my shoulder, “Back to bed? Lucky you.”