“Commitment, Abby, commitment. There are only two creatures of value on the face of this earth — those with a commitment and those who require the commitment of others.”
—Abigail Adams, comforting husband John by quoting his own words back to him when he doubts the cause he holds dear can endure, 1776
It’s a Friday night in the middle of August 1991. I’m meeting my fiancée and a couple of people from her job at a theater on the Upper East Side for an early evening showing of The Commitments, the new movie about this scrappy band of Dublin North Siders who pull together to play Sixties American soul until they necessarily fall apart. I was running late and entered the theater just as the movie was starting, thus it wasn’t until it was over that I received a proper introduction to two of my fiancée’s co-workers.
“So we finally get to meet the boyfriend,” one of them said, which irked me a bit since I had graduated from “boyfriend” status nearly two years before when I ponied up for an