Janie

Janie cast a spell on me. The entire company was fun and sharp and comfortable and familiar, I don't mean to slight anyone. Janie had the type of charisma and energy that could make anything fun. I bet she could make it seem exciting and enjoyable to drink castor oil, while digging a ditch, in a corset, during a blizzard, surrounded by badgers. She would just smile and say, "Hey everyone, let's drink castor oil, while digging a ditch, in a corset, during a blizzard, surrounded by badgers," and everyone else would say, "Yea, alright, I can't think of anything that sounds better right now."

Her four children are raised and independent, and she is finishing her degree, planning to work as a play therapist. I'm not sure I knew much about play therapy. She described it as helping children work through issues or trauma through play. If the field hadn't existed, she might have invented it.

As we spent the evening together, politics came up. It was quickly clear that we distinctly disagreed on some often divisive matters. I feared this difference might douse the afternoon's magic. She stated her opinions, and I didn't really say anything either way. She got up to do something, obviously caught up in thought. She came back later, a question burning in her pocket, and we had a respectful and interested discussion. Earnest thought, common ground, honored differences, magic restored.

Her charisma is perhaps a combination of such youthful exuberance and adult depth and thoughtfulness. As well a mixture of unself-consciousness and an enthusiasm for the task or moment at hand. Janie laughs at herself easily and experiments without fear of failure. She puts others at ease, teases playfully and is curious and engaged.