A Slice of Orange

By Bobbie Cimo

One year I was actually invited to go to the Grammys as a guest. To be honest, it was an era when I actually didn’t know most of the performers. I wasn’t up on the music or the people singing the songs. In other words, there were very few songs nominated that year that I was going to go home humming in my head. But yet, it was a fun experience–sort of like a circus atmosphere, with wild clothes and weird hand shakes.

There were a couple of things I found memorable about that night. One was seeing Paul Simon, of Simon and Garfunkel, wandering around the floor–mostly looking lost. I was surprised to find that he was barely over five feet tall. I also realized that I had a terrific seat– cause I was seated in front of people who had either been nominated or won awards, including Billy Davis Jr. and Marilyn McCoo of the famed Fifth Dimension.

Oh, and I also remember being horrified to learn that two other women were dressed in the same gown as I was, only wearing it in different colors. Nothing thrills a woman more than knowing two clones of her dress are floating around on the dance floor. Only when I came to the realization that my white dress looked smarter and more elegant than the cheap green and pink copies (no bitterness here) did I feel better. However, I continually tried avoiding the harlots who stole my look…not wanting to be confused as one of the lost Andrew Sisters. (For those of you too young to know, the Andrew Sisters are three sisters who sang together and dressed alike during WWII)

But this dress was doomed from the beginning of the evening when I was seated in the audience next to a young man, with ebony skin, a winning smile and nervous leg that wouldn’t stop shaking. This kid, seated next to his four brothers, put new meaning to the phrase, “had ants in his pants”. All five brothers were dressed in white suits, with studs running down the outside of their pant legs. But I had the honor of being seated next to the one who couldn’t sit still if his life depended on it. And of course every time he would nervously shake his leg, he would get caught to my dress. The first few times followed by an apology from him, I would smile and say it’s okay. But by the fifth time, my smile had faded and so had my patience. Without being asked to, probably out of fear for his life by my cold icy stares, this young man got up and asked his older brother, seated two seats away from him, to change places. His brother didn’t want to, until he explained the situation. If I had to take a guess at some of the conversation that was exchanged between the two, I can only surmise it went something along the lines of, “Like dude,…seriously, the woman is going to kill me!”

A few minutes into the show, the singer with the nervous leg, seated in his new seat, leaned forward and turned to look at me. He waved, I smiled, and we remained friends throughout the rest of the evening. As you probably have guessed by now, the five boys were the Jackson Five and the young man was pop icon, Michael Jackson.