Silent Organs and Secret Robe Rooms - Masonic Temple, Guthrie, Oklahoma

I ran straight around the corner, hiding. My heart was pounding I couldn’t actually focus on anything other than to get back behind this door and stay quiet. After silence for about a minute I peeked through the crack in the door to see if someone was standing there. I saw my break as I slipped around the door and silently crept up the stairs where they were going to film next. They were still on break so no one would be around.

The green carpet smelled musty as if it hadn’t been replaced or deep cleaned in decades. The room was set up like an office for our set, it was the front office to the lodge but we transformed it to make it look like an inner city hospital clinic. I didn’t want to mess anything up as I tiptoed around the giant cords and jungle of lights that would flood the room just the right amount for filming. John, our first Assistant Camera guy, was the only one in the room, making sure that things were set up for the crew to return from lunch. I startled him when I rounded the corner and almost ran into him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked gravely as I almost knocked over one of the director’s chairs. I could never read him because I hardly ever saw him laugh, so I think it was always safe to assume he didn’t enjoy being messed with. I apologized and quietly but quickly swept up the stairs before he could question me more. The long hallway that led to the other side of the temple as just below me, I knew it. One could get fantastically lost here and not find their way for an hour or two.  

The Masonic Temple in Guthrie is one of the largest Masonic Temples in the country; it was a beautiful old lodge back in its prime, and still will hold the occasional mason passing through. The place was built in 1919 with the thought that it would be a reflection of God and the beauty of His creation. The Masons are a group of people that hold secret orders – of which they hold to the strictest rules and oaths. They are a movement basically and have been a secret society for centuries.

This specific temple is a wonder because it is in the middle of Guthrie, Oklahoma, the middle of nowhere. When people think of a vacation or a destination they would like to visit, it is pretty much promised that you will not hear the name Guthrie, come from anyone’s lips unless there are family ties. Even then there are about eleven thousand people that live there, so the odds of someone across the country having family there are very slim. This makes it the perfect place for a small unassuming film to make its setting.

            Driving up to the town is quite unnerving to a person from the city. The biggest store in town is the Wal-Mart and generations move slowly throughout time here, rebuilding houses, fixing up old property and living humbly as time goes by. Everything seems to stand still as we drove up the road downtown Guthrie, everyone has lived the same way for years and there is no rush to change that fact whatsoever.

            As I kept searching for the correct stairs to get to the hallway leading to the front section of the building I stumbled across an old “Robe Room” which I can only imagine was for changing of costumes during a production. From what I understand there are three stages in the temple and sometimes are still used for productions. There’s no central cooling system within because of the age of the building, which made the room a lot stuffier than it should have been. I could feel the dust crawling down my throat as I struggled to breath normally – there’s no telling what I would inhale in this place. Finding a staircase down to another level I heard someone rustling across the floor behind me. Without looking back I flew down the stairs two at a time, just missing a dangerous ledge sticking out from the wall and dodging a piece of furniture that looked out of place and lonely.

            Voices carried down the hallway and I turned the other direction to keep hiding from my pursuer. I backed into some curtains that had huge draw strings with tassels attached to them, finding a break in the cloth I pushed them apart and stepped through. As I stepped into the massive room I had to stop and take in the vastness of the architecture. I didn’t realize a room could be this bit within the building. I had found one of the old magnificent theaters. It was two tiered with dark wooden seats that rose up almost as high as the ceiling, when you stepped the sound did not echo but seemed to soak into every particle of the room, a moist environment for acoustics. A beautiful antique organ that sat imbedded in the floor and content with its position. The great red curtains that seemed to flow down from the ceiling gave grandeur to the place that seemed otherwise haunted.

            “Kelli?” I jumped as a person’s head appeared between the curtains that I had just come from. “What are you doing?” Ryan asked, looking at me quizzically.

            “Just looking.” I gathered up my notebook that I had been carrying around with me and quickly followed him through the curtains.

            “Want to see something really cool?” He asked as I steppe through the cascading curtains.

            “Is that even a question?” I replied coolly as he led the way back up the stairs I had just come from. How people are able to find their way around this place I will never understand, but he did not skip a beat as he quickly shifted his way through the halls in what seemed like “the right direction”. We came to a huge open space on the second floor where there was a massive hall seemingly fitting for a presidential address it was so large. We followed the railing, the floor groaning below us with each step, protesting our presence as if it was angry we had come.

            “Look here” he ducked into a side room that was really like an entry parlor area for two adjacent rooms. One being the old library that looked like it came straight from a Harry Potter movie, and the other being the scriptorium or where people would write letters and essays. These were the most beautiful rooms I could have imagined. They were blocked off but just being able to glance into a time different than our own was worth every moment of it.

            Ryan smiled down at me as I stood open-mouthed, staring at the gothic beauty and rustic aura.

            “Pretty great, huh?” he folded his arms and leaned against the wall to take in my surprise and awe.

            “Is there more?”

            “I thought you would never ask.” And he bolted off to the next location. Within 20 minutes I had visited myriads of different rooms, each with their own story to tell. There was the Assyrian room dressed in the ancient Assyrian décor, as well as the Egyptian and Babylonian rooms – all were dressed in their theme.

            “My personal favorite…” Ryan opened up a beautiful massive door to the Crystal Room; a vintage dressed imitating fashionable English 18^th century. The great chandeliers cascaded down to fan out and make the room shimmer. The furniture accented with its different dramatic deep colors to enhance the flavor of the aura. It was here that I realized how vastly different and closed off from the world must this place be, to be kept in timeless condition, never changing, always the next venue for someone’s wedding or a reception of some sort. How lonely it must be to keep these halls and walk where thousands of people have filtered out but never stayed. It feels like it should be a home, it seems to desire familiarity of faces, and its character growing alone made it feel sick. Its beautiful trimmings fading to age, wishing to be owned and cared for as it is supposed to be cared for. We closed the door and headed back to production. After we leave this place will be empty, a silent tomb filled with rooms that will never be quite filled again.

            This was such a beautiful location to visit and is quite easy to get to if you are going through Oklahoma at some point. Though it is a bit off the beaten path it is worth a look to see what is inside the temple. The place is magnificently designed to catch the eye and trick the soul into thinking that it belongs. It’s an experience worth looking into.

"OOOOOklahoma!!" - Oklahoma City, OK

            It’s one thing to travel and visit somewhere, experiencing a place and it’s people, the culture that thrives and the actions that push it to existence. But it is an entirely different thing to move there for a few months at a time. Though different doesn’t always mean a bad thing, it’s not always a good thing either.

            One of the perks of filmmaking is that you may live in Los Angeles and be working constantly but most of productions on a mass scale are elsewhere. The biggest reason for this is the expense of putting on a production in California is much higher than anywhere else in the country and therefore you are going to be filming sometimes in the most remote area simply because it is cheaper than any other part of the country.

            This is why you will find me with my travels in Oklahoma City of all places. The capital of Oklahoma feels a lot different than you would expect for a capital city to feel like, there is ONE “skyscraper” that is as tall as one of our regular size buildings in Los Angeles (and to top that off it even looks like a head of wheat in the distance, lit up at night to make sure that you don’t forget what city you are in). Though not dirty, the city feels dusty – like the prairie was swept up with a broom and the pile of dust got blown all around the houses and in between every crevice. Despite this blatant Midwest appearance, living in the country where you can see for miles and practically feel the long grass blowing as you step outside, never feels more like what home should feel like than what you have experienced before.

            Working on production you have a lot of perks, such as daily money you can spend, a rental car, an apartment that you get to call home for two months and the freedom to do whatever you wish in your off time. Though there wasn’t a lot to necessarily “do” while in Oklahoma, there are places to go where you can make fun no matter what situation you are in.

            My apartment sits on the outskirts of town, latterly on the edge of civilization – you drive just one minute north when you get out to the big street and you have reached farm country. This day was a good day, waking up and making myself coffee an hour before having to leave for work, I wrapped up in a blanket to watch the sunrise. Yes, it was two hour ahead of Los Angeles, which meant that I was technically getting up at three in the morning but the sunrise is the best part of the day in Oklahoma. I held my coffee as I felt the air get warmer with the sun making its slight appearance on the horizon over the field. The beam of light broke directly over the land a lot less like a light switch and more like uncovering you head from under the sheets. The brilliant red, yellow, pink, orange and blue that was just waking up molded into each other and created my mood for the day. This week was beginning of production and I needed the extra lift.

            Walking into the office this week I felt more confident than before, the environment having been a rush to get deadlines met before production started, and me having absolutely no idea how I am going to make it through these next month – this should be interesting. Wendy and Sha’ree greet me as I walk through the door, smiling at my sluggish appearance knowing that I will probably be permanently in jet lag since it’s been a month and I still cannot get used to waking up early. Mark waved at me while he chatted on the phone and wardrobe passed by in a heard to go shopping with the new measurements they received last night. John greeted me briefly before disappearing into Nathan, our unit production manager’s office. The director walked out of his office with a steaming cup of coffee being his only lifeline to reality, he didn’t say a word as he rounded the corner and from what I could imagine, huddled himself in a corner to wait for people to leave for set. It was start of production alright.

            Sabrina beamed at me as I made my appearance in our office. She was a beautiful woman in her early forties who had been working in film for years now. Very rarely will you catch her without  a smile on her face.

            “Good morning!” she sang as I sat my stuff down and unpacked what would be my life for the next month.

            “Let’s get this day over with.” I dropped my large production binder on the table and we laughed as we both got to work. Jocelyn and I were the accountants of this massive production, the only two people who tracked the money being spent. I was the one who made sure the people that were spending the money were being tracked and she worked on payroll.

            “So. Old Faithful took me out last night.” She turned her body towards me to break for a moment, leaning towards me with her gossip grin on. Every day she started out with some story about what had happened to her the night before, like she didn’t want anyone to miss what was happening in her life for one moment? Those people are my favorite because they always have something to say.

            “Old Faithful? Which one was that?”

            “Girl, you know, the one who I dated seriously back” 

“Oh right, the old guy.” I giggled. Sabrina had a roster of men she was dating, she nicknamed all of them so it would be easier for people to remember. She jumped into her story as I grabbed the first envelopes of the day, filled with receipts for me to track.

“Kelli, I need you.” John stuck his head in the room then disappeared again. His office was just around the corner and I could hear him speaking in the other room on the phone. He nodded at me in acknowledgment while I waited at the door. The office space that we got was barely even finished, it was a massage parlor before we moved in and it was still being renovated. Some of the walls were not painted and even some rooms didn’t have carpet. We had seven rooms in all and every one of them was packed with stuff for production – wardrobe, art department, Nathan’s office, accounting, the director’s office, John’s office; everything was completely in use and a full blown machine at this point. We had been working for about a month straight and nothing has slowed down in the slightest.

“Com in.” He finally motioned for me to enter and I smiled as he sat down in his swivel chair.

“What can I do for you.”

“I need you to figure out how to register LLC’s and Corporations businesses here in Oklahoma, we need all “Above the Line” entities completely registered as foreign entities.” My head spun a bit and I had very little of an idea what this would entail.

“Here is a list of everyone that needs to be filed. Oh, I have to take this, good luck.” And like that I was pushed out of the office without any direction except “good luck.” That isn’t surprising in this industry but it does give you a challenge – which was exactly why I loved my job. I quickly walked back to my shared office, almost plowing down Josh with his hands full of baby dolls and an expression that frowned “don’t ask.”

“What was that all about?” Sabrina asked, not looking up from her computer.

“I have to register these.” She laughed while she kept her eyes glued to her computer.

“Good luck.”

“That’s what John said.” I grimaced.

Fourteen missed sunrises later I found myself driving up 23^rd Street, a stack of half-finished papers in on my seat next to me and the windows down while I tried not to scream at everyone that I saw. It was “rush hour” and there was hardly anyone on the street that led to the capital building of Oklahoma. You honestly would not be able to tell that you were coming up to it if you didn’t know where you were going. Mostly you feel as though you find it on accident when you come out from the tunnel under the highway. The great white building standing monumental against the clouded-cuddled sky looks a lot smaller than you would have imagined it to be. There are hardly any buildings that surround it directly and you feel like an intruder for pulling up right in front of it, like you aren’t supposed to be there.

While pulling around to find the visitor’s parking the lot is eerily empty at 4:30PM, the parking spots all labeled “senator”, “representative” and so forth, just tempting you to park there for a few moments just to see if it felt any different. I finally found the visitor’s parking and let out a sigh as I reached for the papers that had slid around a bit. The check safety tucked away in an envelope was put into my wallet and zipped to secrecy. Seven stacks of papers, fourteen weeks of hell waiting on them to be completed.

I stepped out of my car and turned around to look at the capitol building for the first time outside. It was a lot bigger outside of the car than when inside. I gulped loudly before following the path that led across the street to the courtyard of the capitol. A Native American woman boldly looks south as the day continues on; she is not sad, she is determined, looking away from the politics out to the prairie, as if she is leading the politicians to remember the native land and seek towards thankfulness of it. She was beautiful in that way.

There was scaffolding that ran along the sidewalk, hemming you from walking up the steps of the building that seemed to be growing larger than imagined with every step taken. Ladies dressed in their professional attired made me feel quite small and embarrassed, wearing my jeans with holes in them and a flannel tied around my waist. In my defense I didn’t know I would be coming to the capitol that day but still, I felt a bit like a disgrace.

The entrance to the capitol was a small, unassuming door on the side, what seemed to be underneath the stairs. I entered the marble building, which felt less like a tomb than I was expecting, and more like a museum that was heavily guarded. Having flown more than a couple dozen times in the past couple years I knew the drill – empty your pockets and take off your jacket, thank goodness the shoes could stay on. It doesn’t matter how many times you walk through those metal detectors, it is always a small form of relief and accomplishment when you don’t beep. If nothing else went right that day I could at least rest in the fact that I succeeded in not setting off the alarm at the state capitol of Oklahoma.

Great paintings and sculptures were scattered in this labyrinth beneath the capitol, I followed the directions that the security guard gave me and reached the door proclaiming “Secretary of State.” Finally, I could dump these off and get back to work.

“May I help you?” a very uninterested African American woman sitting behind the desk greeted me without looking up from her computer. The small entry room was packed with people sitting in the chairs and it took me a moment to soak in the environment.

“Uh, yes, I need to file these corporations?” I don’t know why I stated it as a question, insecurity at it’s finest I guess.

“Have you filled out the form?” she glanced up at me above her glasses with a half-scowl on her face. Though she seemed stern she seemed like the person you would want to be friends with after work was over and you needed to relax.

“Here,” I dropped my stack on the desk, beaming at my accomplishment.

“THIS paperwork?” She pointed with her pencil at stack of clipboards that let them know what was being processed. “You know we close in ten minutes, right.” She said, grabbing my stack of paperwork and flipping through it. I sighed, as I understood what that meant.

“Is there a way to file these today still?” Hoping for a small ray of sunshine on my day that had “poofed” out of existence. She pointed to the large sign on her desk that read “No filings to be accepted after 4:30 PM. No exceptions.” I closed my eyes for a moment before looking back at her again. She was just doing her job; I had to keep reminding myself of that.

“See you Monday then.” My shoulders shrugged as I took my papers from her hands, defeated by the day, knowing I still had six hours left to go at the office. She smiled up at me for the first time since walking in,

“Don’t be late next time, honey. I’ll be waitin’ here for ya.” She joked and went straight back to work. Even though the day was going rather different than hoped, I still felt that it could get better just from that interaction. The best moments of the day are always at the darkest points where nothing good happens and you hear more bad to pile on top of your humble pie.

Working in a new environment is difficult, figuring out what to do in each state, and sometimes different countries, is a hassle but it is eye opening to the freedom that America has. There are different rules for different states and in more ways than one I was able to figure those out and why they are set in place. It was encouraging to see the different reality that is in Oklahoma as opposed to other states, they have stricter rules about how to do business than California but also have more lenience on other issues. Experiencing how life is lived in Oklahoma on a day to day basis has made this a trip to remember.

Moira's Grandma - Kansas State Fair, Hutchinson, KS

            The sun shot into my eyes as we turned the corner onto one of the main dirt causeways that led to the animals. Smells of fried food and swirling cotton candy rang in my head while I grabbed tighter to my cousin’s hand. So many memories flood back of the Midwest, spending summer after summer waiting for the fair to come around and spending the last part of the year missing it, plotting our plan of attack for the next year.

            We stopped to grab some fried pickles and fried Oreos before stopping through the exhibits. The people move in herds without knowing it, I was almost certain none of the people that walked close together actually knew each other but they followed each other aimlessly none-the-less. A group of kids in their cowboy hats and boots streaked past where we were sitting and almost knocked my freshly squeezed lemonade out of my hand.

            “Sorry Ma’am.” The kid lurched to a halt right away to make sure that I was all right, after seeing I was able to get a handle on the dire situation he smiled back at me and took off again.  Midwest hospitality is engrained in their physical makeup from infancy.  

            The Kansas State Fair is a massive event that brings people from everywhere in Kansas to show off their skills and exhibits. There are animals shows, art exhibits of all kinds, agriculture exhibits that show off the best grown produce in the state as well as the largest, there are baked goods exhibits and science exhibits, clothes and pottery, chili eating contests and rodeos. Pig races during the day and concerts in the evening. There are the typical fair rides that run all day and night, each one costs a few tickets but if you get the wristband you have unlimited rides. Kids run wild away from their parents, playing games and winning stuffed animals. Food is around every corner; you most certainly won’t go hungry trying to find something to eat.

            “What first?” is the big question. My cousin, India, who I hadn’t seen in years, hugged me as we walked towards the arts and crafts building. India and I grew up together, our mom’s were first cousins and best friends growing up in the same small town with the rest of our dozens of cousins. Every year for as long as I could remember we would see our large family whether it would be with a massive reunion that would take over a whole campground, or out at the family farmstead in Western Kansas that has been in our family for about four generations. We spent countless nights sleeping out under the stars in the back of a grain truck, seeing multiple shooting stars in one sitting and wishing on every one of them until we went to sleep.

            Each building has a different personality, there are different types of exhibits in each one and they all take about an hour to get through if you are truly in there to look. There was a massive building filled with all different kinds of baked goods, and not only cookies and pastries but cakes decorated for weddings, pies whose preserves were years old, massive bread baskets decorated in a theme. The next building we entered was agriculture, all different kinds of fruits and vegetables that won various prizes for different categories. The best part about the different stands and exhibits was that there were explanations and hints as to what it takes to grow these kinds of produce and grains and what the judges look for when judging.

We passed the booths that talked about farming grains and came up to a big glass cage that had some type of white sculptures inside it.

“What’s that?” we asked at almost the same time.

“Butter.” A young mother with her four children pulling on her and jumping up and down as they wanted her to look at all the different aspects of the sculpture. It was a scene that depicted children at a hot dog stand, with animals running around with each other and after each other. It was a comical scene that took your mind away from the fact that it was straight butter!

Next up were the gourds, the first prize winner was a massive pumpkin that could fit three of me inside of it. How in the world they get them to be that big is completely beyond me. After stopping and grabbing some food we ventured into the paintings and photography which depicted every single mood you could think of, breathtaking oil paintings and charcoal drawings that made you want to stare at them for hours.

“Quick, Jamie is up next!” a young girl in a bandana dress grabbed her little friend who was looking at the pictures on end of the wall we were at. She pulled the other girl all the way to the door when she finally gave up and they ran away together out of sight. I looked back at India,

“Let’s go see who Jamie is.”

The show stables were filled with animals as we made our way between the stalls, every single cow looked the same, and how do the judges even pick which one is the best of show? As we entered the other building there was a whole crowd seated in the stands watching a huge show ring as young owners led large, fluffy cows into the ring. India and I shuffled over and sat at the end of the bleachers, not wanting to stay long but long enough to see what was going on. The announcer introduced the cows and their caretakers while they paraded them around the ring. They were so fuzzy that they literally looked like they had just had a bath and had a blow drier used on their fur. The judges poked and prodded the heifers while being shown in an obvious fashion. Though I have no idea how, they finally chose a winner, which seemed to me to be the fattest, ugliest one of the group.

“I will never understand farmers.” India laughed and we continued on our way.

After grabbing a turkey leg, we ventured into another building that was filled with sewn materials. As we perused the quilts I really didn’t pay that much attention to them, they were sweet to look at and seemed like they took a while to make but they were just alright to me.

            “I’ll be right back.” My cousin left me walking between the large hangings of the colorful sewn patches. I turned the corner but quickly backtracked to hide behind the quilt wall where I had just been.

            “It was my last one.” An old, shaky voice managed to coo out, I caught a glimpse of her, leaning against a younger woman’s shoulder while she gripped her handkerchief in her right hand, dabbing her face. I tried my best not to look through the crack, and just stood there looking at the same quilt, shamelessly eves dropping.

            “You will have next year grandma, don’t say that.” I could picture the woman hugging her loved grandma closer, trying not to break her fragile frame.

            “Moira, I’m not able to anymore. I cant.” I peaked through the crack and saw her raise her hands out, shaking and maimed from growing old with arthritis. Moira kissed her white hair and gently rubbed her shoulder. My heart broke. She stood there looking at it for a few more moments before reaching out and touching it as if saying goodbye to a friend she will never see again. They walked away towards the exit and I stepped around to see the quilt.

            “Ready?” India came back at that point with her two friends who were here with their school.

            “Yea just a moment.” I went around the corner to see the most beautiful detailed quilt of the State of Kansas. To me, that one took the show. The fine patchwork quilt was pieced together with what seemed steady hands that created straight beautiful lines. It was hard to believe that those crippled, quaking hands could have created something so beautiful, so unique and wonderful. For the first time since walking into that exhibit I felt a sense of inspiration, not because everything in this room was the most beautiful inspiring thing – in retrospect they were all blankets that will end up in someone’s closet or on their grandchildren’s bed. But these patches of fabric were works of art, there is a mass amount of time put into these and they take effort to make beautiful. The concentration that goes into making these has to be insanely strict; sometimes these quilts take years to complete and multiple people to contribute. I looked at the quilt as a painting or sculpture – it was an artifact of culture that, though will not last more than a lifetime, will carry on the heart and soul of the little old woman, Moira’s grandmother, for as long as it is around.

            “Kelli?” she asked, prodding me.

            “Yea, let’s go.” I smiled as we headed out the door, feeling a little older and more humbled by having taken for granted the immense amount of work displayed throughout the fair.

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes - Disneyland, CA

             Getting up in the morning has always been an issue for me, but today, I couldn’t wait to get up. For today – today was a day that would be held in my heart forever. Today was the day that I would relive my childhood. Today was a Disneyland Day.

            There might be better words to describe what it feels to walk through the ticket line and see the flower Mickey head that welcomes you to the domain of fun, but the first word that pops into my mind is “home”. Unlike most children, I did not grow up having experienced Disneyland; my first time was just about a year ago. I never walked the cobblestone streets or hugged Mickey amidst the throngs of screaming children, but I did watch Disney movies religiously. Having dreamed in Disney cartoon as a child, coming to the place where they came to life can be noting but fulfilling your every hope for imagination to meet reality.

            This time would be different; this was the time that my friend was taking me, a friend who is not like the rest - a friend who is handicapped. Ruthanne would be my guide, the person that would take me around to all the rides I hadn’t been on through the secret handicapped passaged I had never seen and to the front of the line where only those that couldn’t walk could get to.

            Everyone’s tactic when first entering Disney Land is completely different: some go straight for Tomorrowland and grab their flash passes for Space Mountain while others run to the Indiana Jones ride, while still others race straight for Toon Town to get it out of the way first. The goal is always to ride as many rides as possible as many times as possible with as much food as you can handle.

            This was a day for relaxation, for soaking in the essence of what Walt Disney hoped for people to experience. As you walk through Downtown Disney, there is a wonder that fills you; it’s not just excitement but more of a reverence for what has been accomplished for so many years. We sludge through the people, alerting them with the little bell attached to her handlebar. You’re in Disneyland but it feels like just the beginning, like you haven’t arrived inside yet.

            “Look.” She said, pointing up at one of the corner offices, second floor. The window read “Elias Disney” and I looked back at her quizzically. She smiled, “That’s his dad’s office.” She went on to explain that Walt Disney’s father, Elias, was a cold hard man, one that you would not want to be the child of on a cold winter’s day. He was a harsh man and yet Walt wanted to revere and remember him in a way that would last a lifetime. There are trinkets from all around the country up in that office and it was sort of a haven for Disney to be at when at the park.

            Toys were everywhere, Main Street teamed with people running in and out of stores, kids screaming for presents and parents ignoring their kids. The vast amount of clothes and paraphernalia that filled each place was overwhelming. Mickey ears were everywhere, headbands and classic bowl mickey ears that had different styles and designs. There were bride and groom mickey ears, Maleficent ears, Star Wars ears, Jazmin ears and classic ears. Every type of Disney character that you can imagine has a design of ears that you could buy.

            Then, there it is, sparkling in the distance, the Mickey and Disney statue standing in the middle of the round-about circle, waving to you in front of the princess castle. It is smaller than you see in the pictures because of optics but is the most beautiful sight to see when entering the park. The castle stands as a symbol for every little girl that “Someday my prince will come.” It is the metaphor for good triumphing over evil and the best example of dreams coming true.

            “Let’s get a Dole Whip!” Ruthanne breaks my thoughts and speeds off without waiting for me. “ We have to start the day out right.” She continued, not checking if I was behind her or not. It didn’t matter that it was 8:30AM, ice cream in the morning is a reality in this place. Dole Whip, if you do not know, is a must when visiting Disneyland. It’s pineapple soft serve ice cream that cannot be topped – there are places that sell Dole Whip but nothing compares to a Dole Whip at Disneyland; I don’t know if it is the atmosphere or the freshness of the juice, but it’s never the same other places.

            After slurping up our last bits of ice cream we headed straight for the Indiana Jones ride – the most exciting ride in my opinion. The plan of attack being to get a flash-pass, run to try to get on the Haunted Mansion ride and then run back to jump in flash-pass line for Indiana Jones.

            “We get special flash passes even.” Ruthanne reminded me, I was ready to experience this side of Disney. Flash passes scanned we headed towards the Haunted Mansion ride. People were just beginning to show up at this point, and the park was becoming more crowded. We continued to weave in and out of groups of people as they were on their own mission with their families and friends. It was nice to have just one other person, it’s easier to make decisions that way. I started to walk into the main line before Ruthanne stopped me,

            “What are you doing?”

            “Getting in line!” I said, confused.

            “Come here.” She rolled her eyes and I came up beside her as she grabbed a red card from the crew member standing at the front. “This means I have to be taken right up to the ride” she explained as she putted herself forward in her scooter. They really do take care of the handicapped here. There were about fifty people in line already and we were able to hop to the very front, they let us in the elevator before everyone else so that we could get a good exiting position. Once the elevator goes down in it’s creepy exhibition we were let off after everyone else so that we could easily get down the hallway to the loading area – which was a chained off area specifically so that they could load handicapped people on carefully.  

            After the ride we were lifted back up the elevator unlike everyone else so that we could easily get back out the way we came in. As we walked around I didn’t really realize how much people stare at those with disabilities, I was astounded with how much Ruthanne was looked at and asked about her injury. Though they were not really rude it became a bit of an annoyance to me to see the blatant staring people showed. In a way it made me more sensitive to the handicapped people around me as well, they always are stared at and draw attention to themselves by just living, which would be a difficult thing to deal with every single day.

            After hitting more rides on this side of the park we wandered over to TomorrowLand, the land of the future with Star Wars and Buzz Lightyear rides that took you to outer space and to infinity and beyond. We made a quick lunch stop at Pizza Planet before heading to the Matterhorn. While we were walking past the TomorrowLand building there was a commotion at the stage.

            “Padawan practice.” Ruthanne shrugged. I lit up – Star Wars.

            “We’re watching.” I said with finality in my tone. She rolled her eyes as we sauntered up to the group of parents who were watching, as their children were hand picked by the “Jedi Master”. They were given little Jedi robes and light sabers to practice with. It was so magical to watch these little kids be Jedi in training, pretending to practice their sparring. I would give anything to be one of the crew members that helped set up the kids on the stage, dressed as a Padawan themselves and looking ready for their next lesson from the Master. These kids will be talking and reenacting this lesson for months to come.

            Next stop – fantasy land where all the original rides are housed. There were people everywhere, even the handicapped lanes had lines, though they were the most fun lines to be in because you got to go through the exit and hope on the rides before anyone else was able to get on. It was sort of a selfish, greedy thing to be so satisfied not having to wait in the long switchback lines but for the moment I enjoyed not having to be a sucker for the first time at Disneyland.

            As the day begins to wind down and become dark you have to plan it out very carefully. There are multiple ways to spend the evening because there are multiple shows that happen. This is what we typically do. First the night parade which is the most fantastic light show of all – every single character from the Disney movies has a float that drives throughout the park, they sing and dance as they parade down the street. They have lights covering their float, which enhances every single aspect of the show because the lights are timed with the overhead music. It’s interactive with certain light up Mickey ears as well; the ones that have programmed lights inside the ears literally blink along with the music.

            After the parade we typically run to “It’s a Small World” so that we can stand in front of it to watch the fireworks that seem to be right above you when you are standing there. The fireworks show is as well timed to the music as they burst above you, almost singing along. This show is always moving; it’s inspiring because it relates to what you feel inside with pure happiness. The music will move you to the right mood that you need to be in. The most interesting part about the fireworks is that the City of Orange County pays for them every single day, since Disneyland has brought it so much business over the decades it gives back to the community by paying for every single person’s day at Disneyland to be the best day they have ever had.

            Once the fireworks end it is a mad dash to the riverfront to watch Fantasmic – which is, in my opinion, the best show that Disney puts on. This show is the farewell song, it is the show right before the park begins to close down; you may have a short amount of time to ride one or two rides if you are lucky before everything closes. Ruthanne grabbed a spot while I went to hunt down more food and a couple drinks. I knew exactly what I wanted to get.

            I returned in about 30 minutes to find Ruthanne sitting with the other handicapped individuals, chatting away while I handed her the drink. I sat on the ground, crossed my legs and pealed open the tin foil covering of my hot turkey leg, the last thing I always get at Disneyland. BOOM the show starts with a massive trill from a symphony. Mickey comes out on the stage and conducts the music as if he is the maestro. This show is special because it is about imagination and the power that it holds in success. It shows the audience, young and old, that dreams and imagination are what help us to get through tough situations, dreaming about better things and hoping the best for our lives. It also shows the danger of imagination and how it can get the better of you, but that goodness always wins in the end. It’s an exciting light and water show with fireworks and plays on color. There are boat floats that have the different princesses and characters from the movies that float by with their individual iconic songs – this part always makes me cry because it is where you see all of the characters come to life.

Disneyland is my home because it’s where your dreams really do come true. Imagination is such an integral part of any childhood’s life and the older you get the more you realize that imagination is not reality and the more cynical you can become. Disneyland is that escape back to when you were five and imagined prince charming coming to the rescue or Buzz Lightyear coming to save the day at school when someone was picking on you. Disney is imagination and following your dreams. It is reality of humanity.