By Amanda Knox

I realize that in many of my most recent columns—engaging with subjects like grief, political frustration, introspection, stillness—I may be coming across as a bit of a Debbie Downer. No, I don’t suffer from SAD (seasonal affect disorder). I’m not overwhelmed or irritated by the holidays. Quite the contrary, I luxuriate in any excuse to gather together with my big, loud family and celebrate the idea of life and light emerging from death and darkness. It’s just, even by the weekend before Christmas, the festivity of the season hadn’t yet caught up with me. Or, despite my best efforts in having done (most of) my Christmas shopping and painting my nails Santa Claus red, I hadn’t caught up with it. I’ve been distracted.

Enter the Democratic debates of Saturday, December 19th. I hastily wolfed down some salad greens in front of my computer screen for the opening thirty minutes, almost regretting that I had a fun evening planned. I was missing it! Oh, well. There’s always Youtube.

But what could I expect of a musical about 38 planes redirected and forced to land in the middle of nowhere, Gander, Newfoundland? This was the premise of Seattle Repertory Theatre’s, Come From Away, a new show that a friend had gifted me tickets to. I didn’t ponder it much as I drove out because I was skipping through radio stations, trying to find the debate. Distracted, see.

Traffic around the Seattle Center turned out to be the worst I’ve ever seen it. Lots demanding $20 for the evening were packed full. I lurched a good thirty minutes through messy streams of vehicles spilling into side streets, worried I was wasn’t going to find a space in time, discouraged by claustrophobia almost to the point of giving up.

When least expected, found a spot I did. I hobbled quickly towards the theatre, relieved and bewildered, a wuss for the cold. I hardly looked around me. The lobby of the theatre was abruptly warm and bright, and I hadn’t long to take this in before the bells tolled and I shuffled through another claustrophobic pack of people to get to our seats. By this point I wasn’t Grinch-y, per se, but I certainly wasn’t embodying the calm, collected perspective of the Who either. Twas perfect dramatic timing for some surprise magic.

I will go ahead and run the risk of writing an inadequately short and frustratingly un-useful (the show closed on December 20th), but rave review of Come From Away. It’s a fast-paced show that immediately gets to the heart of the matter: people (whole-heartedly, selflessly) helping people (who are desperate, scared, uncertain). A welcoming and generosity of spirit born out of crisis and demonstrated despite fear and limited resources. True stories, real people, clearly delineated by brilliant writing and acting. My favorite anecdote was of the young black New Yorker who was being hosted by the mayor of the town. At first he cast a wary eye on his outlandish hosts, and kept his wallet close. But when the town needed to gather together BBQs in order to make enough food, the mayor asked the New Yorker to go into the neighbors’ yards and procure them. What? thought the New Yorker. You want me to get shot? And indeed, he was stopped by every homeowner whose grill he gathered. Stopped, offered a cup of tea, and helped in stealing the grills from their own yards. The New Yorker stopped worrying about his wallet so much after that. And the music! It was well-mixed, beautifully performed, with a live band onstage that got the audience on their feet, clapping and stomping.

Best of all, this show about the 9/11 attacks and resulting crisis not only offered an eye-opening, moving perspective of the current overwhelming political issues, but it also unexpectedly and overwhelming embodied and inspired the season’s spirit. I felt filled up with it. Everyone was glowing.

Outside the theatre, I took a detour through the Seattle Center on a leisurely meander back to the car. I wrapped my scarf around my head and took in the lights freckling the trees against the night sky. And what to my wondering eyes should appear but hundreds of lightsabers waving through the air? It explained the traffic. Hundreds of people were congregated not only to see the new Star Wars film, but to dress up and take part in an epic lightsaber battle in the square by the Children’s theatre.

It was good to see and be a part of so many people. To hear the stories of those in need and those who welcomed them. To be a part of a crowd inspired and made merry. To witness the light of playing pretend together. Suddenly I remembered that I couldn’t wait for the few days until I could sit with my big, loud family and sing songs around the tree. And that we did.