In this era of impersonal communiqu'es that sometimes seem to cordon off our isolation, I hold close those moments when live, human messages come my way. One such memorable event occurred because my husband misread the ads for movies showing in our area. After dinner, we hurried some 10 miles to a theater in a nearby town only to find that the film was being shown at our own neighborhood theater.
``Oh, I'm so sorry you've come all this way,'' the woman at the ticket window sympathized, ``and you know, I think that's the last run for that film in this county. Let me call for you.''
Bemused by this concentrated interest, we waited while she chatted with the theater people in our town. ``Yes,'' she told us, ``it is the last showing and the film has already begun. I am so sorry.''
My husband and I thanked her, looked at each other and said, ``Why not?''
Back in our car, we returned the way we had come. At our local theater when we approached the box office, the theater manager was there, smiling. ``You must be the couple who got mixed up,'' he said. Laughing, we agreed. ``Tell you what,'' he continued, ``this show is on the house,'' and he ushered us in.
But, as we headed for the aisle, he hurried after us. ``Wait! You won't get to see this film repeat, so let me tell you what has happened so far in the plot!''
Listening to the earnest manager, we both knew the age of electronic communication hasn't completely encapsulated everyone - and maybe it never will.