Clyde Moore: Holiday flash mob

Kids will sometimes just stare at me. I’m pretty sure they know it won’t be long before I’ll make a face, or react, as I do. They suspect I’m not too different than them, just bigger. I look back, begging them not to give me away in the wrong situation, some sort of a quasi-professional courtesy.

My inner child isn’t always easy to contain. It’s sort of Hulk-like, just less green, and more fun. There’s a reason why I can never channel surf beyond “Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory” any time I find it on television. We all seek kindred spirits; even if they are make believe.

I’ve had a few ideas I’ve wanted to make happen for more than a year now. This year at Christmas I was determined to make a local flash mob into a reality. I just needed a general plan, and eager cohorts.

I’d never met Theresa Leigh Smith in person; but I’d helped promote some of her local, vocal events. When I was ready to move forward with my yuletide flash mob, she seemed an obvious conspirator. Her reaction was encouraging, exciting. She teaches 35 students in voice, has a master’s in vocal performance. And, lucky for me, she likes to be spontaneous. We planned a meeting at the intersection of Park Avenue and New England, where I thought such a first effort might work well for the slower pace of a Christmas Eve. It was flat there, with three great anchors – Tuni, Peterbrooke and Luma – on three corners, the other Central Park. We met and she quickly announced she’d brought another, Josh Wilson, who she’d just been meeting with elsewhere. This sort of encouragement to my ideas was not common, but it’s still hard to know exactly how to react. Their energy, enthusiasm, smiles? We were definitely a go.

I contacted the owner of the Winter Park Wedding Chapel, Suzanne Graffham, about possibly rehearsing there. After hearing so much about this delightful venue, it was surprising I’d only zeroed in on its exact location in the past year. She was delightful and I was again reminded of what can occur when neighbors help neighbors, and get behind an idea they believe is a positive one for a community. Listening to Suzanne’s English accent was an extra perk. Our initial rehearsal was good, though we had only seven or so participants. Yet, I was already blown away by the sound of participants’ voices rising, coming together as different patterns of fabric forming a quilt. I’m a lover of music, but now felt quite oblivious to what it takes to develop a musical arrangement, and make it work. I observe Theresa and Josh working out details, and realize just how unprepared I was for such on my own. Josh has been playing piano since he was 15, and makes Theresa’s requests happen easily. They speak the same language. She stood before participants directing them, her obvious abilities serving to make me feel a bit smarter in my own.

For a number of days we were recruiting. We had another rehearsal on Friday evening, which also grew in attendance.

I ran into City Manager Randy Knight off Park Avenue, and alerted him to our plans. I so wanted a ‘bucket,’ a way to lift my mascot, Parker, skyward, a local-shift on a bird of peace. That never worked out. I also stopped by the Winter Park Police Department, just to let them know what was afoot.

By the time Christmas Eve arrived, I was nervous. I messaged Theresa on Facebook. She reassured me she was a professional, and knew what she was doing. I’d seen her at work, thought of that, and calmed. I switched to figuring out how to attach candy cane lights to Parker.

Just before 5 p.m. on Christmas Eve the square was getting busier. I saw the van for WESH 2, which was to cover it, and my fretting was back. We’d talked on the phone earlier and I’m guessing I’m the only one who ever quoted “Elf” in a phone interview: “The best way to spread Christmas cheer is singing loud for all to hear.”

A brief pow-wow and I was off to turn into a large owl. I came back to find the crowd had grown. Some of the word was purposefully out. Parker planted himself on the corner and several passersby requested photos. I tried to stay attentive to the cue.

The music started, rising from the Luma corner. Parker began to conduct. I thought of boat trips on rough water… sky, water, sky, water. From inside that large head, I saw blue sky, then black pavement as furious conducting took hold. I could hear, somewhat see, but neither terribly well. I closed my eyes – as it didn’t really matter – and focused on the music, how it sounded, words I could somewhat make out but knew for certain were there.

I’d anticipated a total time of seven minutes, but it was surely more like five. Brittnie Gallo from Tuni was soon talking into Parker’s eye, saying it was ‘adorable.’ I shuffled across the street to the largest group of participants, offered a ‘thank you’ to the WESH 2 reporter who carried a bit live, then had reports of the event at both 6 and 11. I yelled out of the head: “Thank you!”

I looked back on the whole event from the photos and video, took note of the smiles and laughter, the joy I saw from both participants and onlookers. I saw a comment on Facebook of a father whose daughter had crawled up onto his laptop to watch a clip. It felt great.

At the very end, there in Central Park, there was some discussion, congratulations, a comment of ‘great job.’ It was all Theresa. I tried to communicate from inside that head. “You’re a wise owl,” a lady responded. That seemed a compliment for Parker and he nodded.

Gone in a flash, it is a Christmas Eve I will always remember.