There's been quite a lot of hoopla over Susan Boyle's appearance on "Britain's Got Talent," as if it were she who surprised us, when the case is that we simply surprised ourselves with our own bigotry. One summer afternoon, years ago, I was enjoying some sprinkling rain and fresh mountain air at Mishawaka. I was being treated to a show by a married girlfriend who, it turns out, had plans to meet up with a guy she had a crush on. When he showed up, I wandered outside to get away from their goo-goo trysting, and I started up a circle of new friends out on the back deck. The temporary tribe grew quickly, till about a dozen of us were laughing as loud as the Poudre River rushing by. It was a great afternoon, a serene scene. Pretty soon, Tab Benoit walked out onto the deck and into the circle to partake of the festivities. After a while, as he started to leave toward the stage to start his show, Mr. Six Whiskeys mumbled out of his slobbering pie-hole that I had completely surprised him with my wit, charm and generosity -- he thought he was paying me some big damn compliment. I was just being who I was. He surprised himself.
As the singer and YouTube sensation Miss Boyle makes the rounds of American talk shows, swatting down impertinent questions about her non-existent dating life (read: virginity at 47), and as thousands of eager cosmeticians waiting in the wings, poised with tweezers, choke at their chains for a makeover that she's also refused, my money's on this innocent phenomenon's unchangeability and her Zen humor and patience, letting the chattering world swirl around her, and saying little, because she need not say more. -- KT
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